nything else that might appear upon the plain, and he saw occasional
groups of the buffalo, a dozen or so, at which he expressed surprise.

"And why are you surprised, young William?" asked Brady. "Don't you know
enough of this mighty West not to be surprised at anything?"

"I saw so many millions in that herd going into the northwest," replied
the lad, "that I thought it must have included all the buffaloes in the
world. Yet here are more, scattered in little groups."

"And there are other herds millions strong far down in the south, and
still others just as strong, Montana way. It may be in this great hunt
of ours that we can live on the buffalo, just as the Indians do."

They slept that night on the open plain, warm in their blankets and
lulled by the eternal winds, and the next morning they were off again at
the first upshoot of dawn. It now grew very warm, the sun's rays coming
down vertically, while the plain itself seemed to act as a burnished
shield, reflecting them and doubling the heat. Careful of their animals,
they gave them a long rest at noon, and then resumed the march at a slow
pace. Before sundown Will saw through his glasses a long line of trees,
apparently cottonwoods, running almost due north and south.

"Means a creek," said the Little Giant, "a creek mebbe a leetle bigger
than them make-believe creeks we've crossed. I like the plains. They
kinder git hold o' you with thar sweep an' thar freedom, but I ain't
braggin' any 'bout thar water courses. I've seen some o' the maps in
which the rivers cut big an' black an' bold an' long 'cross the plains,
same ez ef they wuz ragin' an' t'arin' Ohios an' Missips, an' then I've
seen the rivers tharselves, more sand than water. An' I love fine, clear
streams, runnin' fast, but you hev to go into the mountains to git 'em,
whar, ez you've seen, Will, thar are lots o' sparklin' leetle ones,
clean full o' pure water, silver, or blue, or gold, or gray, 'cordin' to
the way the sun shines. But I say ag'in when braggin' o' the great
plains I keep dark 'bout the rivers an' lakes."

The cottonwoods were six or seven miles away, and when they reached them
they found all of the Little Giant's predictions to be true. The stream,
a full foot in depth, flowed between banks higher than usual, and its
waters, cold and sweet, were entirely devoid of alkali. Following it
some distance, they found sloping banks free from the danger of
quicksand, and crossed to the other side,