“No.”
“I was afraid that they might have done so. Any chance for a shot?”
“I believe so. I’ll tell you my plan,” Chet returned in a low voice.
Dig was just as eager now as Chet himself to get a shot at the game. Chet explained quietly how the herd was grazing and what he proposed to do to overcome the lack of shelter from the down wind side.
Dig dismounted and they led the horses up the rise. They had some small discussion as to whether they should abandon the outfit while they stalked the buffaloes.
“You know what Poke will do the minute I take his saddle off. He’ll roll,” said Dig, with disgust. “And the way he kicks and snorts is enough to frighten any kind of game into a conniption fit.”
“I don’t think, after all, that the saddles and blanket-rolls will make the buffaloes suspicious,” whispered Chet. “Now lengthen your rein and tie your lariat to it. We’ll give the horses all the range possible.”
With the horses at the very end of the tethers the trail boys let them drift over the rise and out upon the plain. It was noon and they were hungry, so they began to graze immediately.
Whenever the buffaloes caught sight of the two horses, they were quietly feeding on the short grass, and moving on like themselves—up wind. A plains-bred or mountain-bred horse will always point into the wind when grazing, just as instinctively, as any game animal.
What the buffaloes did not see was the long line dragging behind each horse. At the end of the lines were the boys, creeping on hands and knees, or lying flat for a time on the prairie, to breathe.