them straight back again," said Tommy. "Never
do. They must have a spell. Besides, what's the hurry?"

And Hugh, recognising that for all the good he could do he might just as
well not hurry back again, resigned himself to the inevitable, picked up
his bridle, went into the shuffling herd of horses, and caught the one
pointed out to him. It was a big, raw-boned, ragged-hipped bay, a horse
that would have been a gentleman under any other conditions, but from
long buffalo-hunting had become a careless-going, loose-jointed ruffian,
taking his life in his hands every day. He bit savagely at Hugh as he
saddled him, and altogether proclaimed himself devoid of self-respect
and the finer instincts.

Breakfast was despatched almost in silence. The shooters knew vaguely
that Hugh's visit was in some way connected with Considine, and that
Considine had refused to do what Hugh wanted. But the hospitality of the
buffalo camp is as the hospitality of the Arabs of old--the stranger is
made welcome whatever his business, and may come and go unquestioned.

Hugh had little desire to talk on the subject of his visit, and
Considine maintained a dogged silence. Tommy Prince alone chatted away
affably between large mouthfuls of buffalo beef, damper, and tea, airing
his views on all subjects, but principally on the fair sex. Meanwhile
the blacks were catching the pack-horses, and sharpening their skinning
knives. The two horses used by the shooters were brought over to the
camp fire and given a small feed each of much-prized maize and oats and
bran, that had been brought round in the lugger from Port Faraway
with the camp supplies, landed on the river-bank twelve miles off, and
fetched in on pack-horses.

"A little more beef, Mister? No? Well, all aboard for the Buffalo
Brigade! That's your rifle by the tree. Put this cartridge-belt on and
buckle it real tight; if you leave it loose, when you start to gallop it
will shake up and down, and shake the soul out of you. Come, Paddy, what
are you riding?"

"I'm going to ride the boco."

[Footnote: One-eyed horse.]

"I wouldn't if I was you. He's all right to race up to a buffalo, but
that blind eye of his'll fetch him to grief some day. Ride the old
grey."

"No fear," said the old man obstinately, "the boco's one eye's worth any
horse's two. Me an' the boco will be near the lead when the whips are
crackin', take it from me."

"Come along, then!"

Hugh clambered on to his raw-boned ste