hose
hollow-sounding cry seemed like an echo of their more fortunate
brethren, nearer the game. A party of the creatures were busy at the
offal from the slain buffalo, just without the range of the firelight,
for the camp-fire had been kept alight. Into the struggling, snarling
group Younkins discharged his rifle. There was a sharp yell of pain, a
confused patter of hurrying feet, and in an instant all was still.

Sandy started up. "Who's shot another buffalo?" he asked, as if
struggling with a dream. The others laughed, and Charlie explained
what had been going on, and the tired boy lay down to sleep again. But
that was not a restful night for any of the campers. The wolves
renewed their howling. The hunters were able to snatch only a few
breaths of sleep from time to time, in moments when the dismal
ululation of the wolf-chorus subsided. The sun rose, flooding the
rolling prairies with a wealth of golden sunshine. The weary campers
looked over the expanse around them, but not a remnant of the
rejected remains of the buffalo was to be seen; and in all the
landscape about, no sign of any living thing was in sight, save where
some early-rising jack-rabbit scudded over the torn sod, hunting for
his breakfast.

Fresh air, bright sunlight, and a dip in a cool stream are the best
correctives for a head heavy with want of sleep; and the hunters,
refreshed by these and a pot of strong and steaming coffee, were soon
ready for another day's sport.

CHAPTER XVI.

A GREAT DISASTER.

The hunters had better success on their second day's search for
buffalo; for they not only found the animals, but they killed three.
The first game of the day was brought down by Younkins, who was the
"guide, philosopher, and friend" of the party, and Oscar, the youngest
of them all, slew the second. The honor of bringing down the third and
last was Uncle Aleck's. When he had killed his game, he was anxious to
get home as soon as possible, somewhat to the amusement of the others,
who rallied him on his selfishness. They hinted that he would not be
so ready to go home, if he yet had his buffalo to kill, as had some of
the others.

"I'm worried about the crop, to tell the truth," said Mr. Howell. "If
that herd of buffalo swept down on our claim, there's precious little
corn left there now; and it seemed to me that they went in that
direction."

"If that's the case," said the easy-going Younkins, "what's the use of
going home? If the co