2C ON THE FEONTIER. 



which the winner gets a drink and the losers a smell at the 

 cork of the bottle, was tried. 



Fifty times in the day some one or other climbed the 

 look-out tree. Gradually it became certain that the main 

 herd of buffaloes was approaching us. The outside fringes 

 of bulls were becoming more and more denned, the dark 

 patches behind them were resolving themselves into distinct 

 groups, the dusky streak on the horizon was widening and 

 widening, spreading and spreading, it was covering the 

 ground by square miles. The excitement became intense, 

 but night again fell, and the buffaloes were still far off. 



About ten o'clock, camp was aroused by the watchman. 

 He had heard a sound which he could not make out. We 

 all listened with breathless attention. The light western 

 breeze brought at intervals a low distant murmur, like that 

 from a far-off sea. What could it be ? Anon it became 

 more and more distinct, then died away, then came louder 

 than before. Ere long it sounded like the roll of distant 

 thunder, the hum of a busy city, the surf breaking over 

 sunken reefs. 



Was it the roar of a prairie fire ? No. There was no 

 glow in the sky, and the grass was too green to burn. Was 

 it the rush of waters, had there been a storm to westward, 

 was a flood coming down the river? The idea took away 

 our breath. We were camped on sand, and a big head of 

 water would ground-sluice our foundations from beneath 

 us. Could the sound be made by the distant herd ? The 

 wind was coming directly from them. 



It was the noise of the herd. They were coming. By- 

 and-by, however, we ceased to hear them. The day- 



