You'll not dispute that, will
you, Mose?--Our Texas cattle will often get stampeded by the sight of a
little cloud of dust that is suddenly raised by the wind; or some night
a careless herdsman may step between them and the fire and throw his
shadow upon them; or some of the young and foolish members of a drove
will fall to skylarking, and that will frighten the others, and the
first thing you know they are all off like the wind. Buffaloes have just
as little sense. My herdsman has told me that he has seen hundreds of
them, when they were suffering for water, walk into a stream that was
literally choked with the bodies of their companions who had been caught
in the quicksand."

"Say," growled a drowsy trooper from his blanket, "suppose you boys go
somewhere and hire a hall?"

George laughed, and, taking the hint thus delicately thrown out, brought
his lecture on buffaloes to a close. The remembrance of the thrilling
scene through which he had just passed did not keep him awake. On the
contrary, sleep came to his eyes almost immediately, and the last sound
he heard as he was about to pass into the land of dreams was the subdued
voice of the scout murmuring, "Fresh, very fresh!"

CHAPTER XI.

TELEGRAPHING BY SMOKES.

The camp was aroused at an early hour the next morning, and by the time
it was fairly daylight breakfast had been disposed of and the column was
again in motion. The firing-squad had brought down a goodly number of
buffaloes in their efforts to split the herd--enough to furnish the
whole camp with a hearty meal and to enable each trooper to carry two
days' cooked rations in his haversack. During the first few miles of
their march there was no trail for them to follow, all traces of the
thieving Kiowas having been obliterated by the hoofs of the stampeded
buffaloes; but this did not interfere with the movements of the scout,
who, from the start, led the way at a rapid pace. He knew the general
direction in which the trail led, and that was enough for him.

"Where do you think we shall pick it up again?" asked Captain Clinton
of George, who rode by his side.

"Do you see that butte?" asked George in reply, directing the officer's
attention to a single high peak in the distance, which marked the
south-eastern boundary of the dreaded Staked Plains. "We shall not see
another drop of water until we reach that mountain, and we shall find
some traces of the Indians there, if we do not find them before