having become alarmed, started off at a run. Once more the click was
heard; then the wolf, rising on its hind legs, coolly walked backed to
its comrades behind the bush, while the herd of buffaloes galloped
furiously away.

The Indian solemnly stalked up to Bertram and presented the pistol to
him with such an expression of grave contempt on his countenance that
March Marston burst into an irresistible fit of laughter, thereby
relieving his own feelings and giving, as it were, direction to those of
the others, most of whom were in the unpleasant condition of being
undecided whether to laugh or cry.

To miss a buffalo was not indeed a new, or, in ordinary circumstances, a
severe misfortune; but to miss one after having been three days without
food, with the exception of a little unpalatable wolf's flesh, was not
an agreeable, much less an amusing, incident.

"I'll tell ye wot it is," said Bounce, slapping his thigh violently and
emphasising his words as if to imply that nobody had ever told anybody
"wot" anything "wos" since the world began up to that time, "I'll tell
ye wot it is, I won't stand this sort o' thing no longer."

"It is most unfortunate," sighed poor Bertram, who thoroughly identified
himself with his pistol, and felt as much ashamed of it as if the fault
had been his own.

"Wall, lads," observed Big Waller, drawing forth his pipe as the only
source of comfort in these trying circumstances, and filling it with
scrupulous care, "it ain't of no use gettin' growowly about it, I guess.
There air more buffaloes than them wot's gone; mayhap we'll splinicate
one before we gits more waspisher."

It may, perhaps, be necessary to explain that Waller's last word
referred to the unusually small waists of the party, the result of a
pretty long fast.

"I'll tell ye what it is," said March, advancing towards Bounce with a
swagger and drawing his hunting-knife, "I quite agree with Waller's
sentiments. I don't mean to allow myself to get any more waspisher, so
I vote that we cut Bounce up and have a feed. What say you, comrades?"

"All right," replied Bounce, laying bare his broad chest as if to
receive the knife, "only, p'r'aps, ye'll allow me to eat the first slice
off myself afore ye begin, 'cause I couldn't well have my share
afterwards, d'ye see? But, now I think on't, I'd be rather a tough
morsel. Young meat's gin'rally thought the tenderest. Wot say ye to
cuttin' up March first, an' tryin' me nixt?"