CHAPTER III 



THE LAST HERD 



OVER gray No-Man s-Land stole down the 

 shadows of night. The undulating prairie 

 shaded dark to the western horizon, rimmed 

 with a fading streak of light. Tall figures, silhou 

 etted sharply against the last golden glow of sunset, 

 marked the rounded crest of a grassy knoll. 



u Wild hunter!&quot; cried a voice in sullen rage, 

 &quot; buffalo or no, we halt here. Did Adams and I 

 hire to cross the Staked Plains? Two weeks in No- 

 Man s-Land, and now we re facing the sand ! We ve 

 one keg of water, yet you want to keep on. Why, 

 man, you re crazy! You didn t tell us you wanted 

 buffalo alive. And here you ve got us looking death 

 in the eye ! &quot; 



In the grim silence that ensued the two men 

 unhitched the team from the long, light wagon, while 

 the buffalo hunter staked out his wiry, lithe-limbed 

 racehorses. Soon a fluttering blaze threw a circle 

 of light, which shone on the agitated face of Rude 

 and Adams, and the cold, iron-set visage of their 

 brawny leader. 



&quot; It s this way,&quot; began Jones, in slow, cool voice; 



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