there is plenty of danger as well, though the converse of this is not
always true. On the neutral or "war grounds" of the Indians, you may
meet with a friendly tribe one day, and on the next, or even within the
next hour, you may fall in with a band of savages who will scalp you on
sight.

Now, the father of our three boy hunters knew all this, as well as I
know it. How then are we to account for his apparently unnatural
conduct, in permitting them to risk their lives in such an enterprise?
It would be quite unaccountable indeed were it not that there was a
_mystery_ connected with it, which I shall explain to you hereafter.
All I can tell you now is, that when the three were mounted and about to
start, the Colonel hobbled up; and, drawing from his pocket a small
leathern bag or case ornamented with stained porcupine quills, he handed
it to Basil, saying as he did so: "_Take good care of it, Basil_--_you
know its use_--_never let it part from you_--_your lives may depend upon
it. God be with you, my brave boys. Adieu_!" Basil took the case,
passed the string over his shoulders, pushed the bag under the breast of
his hunting-shirt, pressed his father's hand, and putting the spur to
his horse rode briskly off. Lucien saluted his father with a kiss,
waved his hand gracefully to Hugot, and followed. Francois remained a
moment behind the rest--rode up to Hugot--caught hold of his great
moustache, gave it a twitch that caused the _ex-chasseur_ to grin again;
and then, with a loud yell of laughter, wheeled his pony, and galloped
after his brothers.

The Colonel and Hugot stood for some moments watching them. When the
boy hunters had reached the edge of the woods, all three reined up,
turned in their saddles, and, taking off their hats, uttered a parting
cheer. The Colonel and Hugot cheered in return. When the noise had
subsided, the voice of Francois was heard shouting back,--

"Fear not, papa! we'll bring you the _white buffalo_!"

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE CAMP OF THE BOY HUNTERS.

Our young adventurers turned their faces westward, and were soon riding
under the shadows of majestic woods. At this time there were few white
settlements west of the Mississippi river. The small towns upon its
banks, with here and there a settler's "clearing" or a squatter's cabin,
were the only signs of civilisation to be met with. A single day's ride
in a westerly direction would carry the traveller clear of all these,
and lau