They rearranged their outfit, tightened cinches, and remounted. The black specks were quite visible to the naked eye; but they were moving slowly northeast. The boys shook the reins and let Hero and Poke point into the wind at an easy canter.
CHAPTER XVIII—ROYAL GAME
Chet was just as eager and excited as he could be. Dig appeared to be doubtful of the identity of the moving herd they had spied so far away; nevertheless, he felt that the venture was momentous.
The chums had not hunted big game frequently enough to approach this strange herd of grazing animals with calmness. Their pulses throbbed and their faces flushed. They were both on the qui vive.
“If it should be the buffaloes, Chet,” gasped Digby Fordham, “what’ll we do?”
“Shake salt on their tails,” grinned Chet, “as you suggested doing to the antelope.”
“No fooling,” Dig urged. “They’ll be dangerous, won’t they?”
“If we get them mad, I reckon they will be. But they are very timid at the approach of man. And if they get started on the run—good-bye! We couldn’t catch them unless our horses were very fresh. That’s why we must take the trip over to their feeding ground easily. We may have to gallop to get a shot.”
“If they are the buffaloes,” added the Doubting Thomas.
“If they are not the buffaloes, they’ll be something well worth shooting,” Chet said with confidence. “I don’t know of anything else that size that roams these plains.”