The Last Herd 



near at hand. The cow would not venture far from 

 the main herd; the eight stragglers were the old 

 broken-down bulls that had been expelled, at this 

 season, from the herd by younger and more vigorous 

 bulls. The old monarchs saw the hunter at the same 

 time his eyes were gladdened by sight of them, and 

 lumbered away after the cow, to disappear in the 

 gathering darkness. Frightened buffalo always make 

 straight for their fellows; and this knowledge con 

 tented Jones to return to the lake, well satisfied that 

 the herd would not be far away in the morning, 

 within easy striking distance by daylight. 



At dark the storm which had threatened for days, 

 broke in a fury of rain, sleet and hail. The hunters 

 stretched a piece of canvas over the wheels of the 

 north side of the wagon, and wet and shivering, 

 crawled under it to their blankets. During the night 

 the storm raged with unabated strength. 



Dawn, forbidding and raw, lightened to the whis 

 tle of the sleety gusts. Fire was out of the question. 

 Chary of weight, the hunters had carried no wood, 

 and the buffalo chips they used for fuel were lumps 

 of ice. Grumbling, Adams and Rude ate a cold 

 breakfast, while Jones, munching a biscuit, faced the 

 biting blast from the crest of the ridge. The middle 

 of the plain below held a ragged, circular mass, as 

 still as stone. It was the buffalo herd, with every 



61 



