And here you've got us looking death in the eye!" In the grim silence that ensued the two men unhitched the team from the long, light wagon, while the buffalo hunter staked out his wiry, lithe-limbed racehorses.

Soon a fluttering blaze threw a circle of light, which shone on the agitated face of Rude and Adams, and the cold, iron-set visage of their brawny leader.
"It's this way," began Jones, in slow, cool voice; "I engaged you fellows, and you promised to stick by me.

We've had no luck.

But I've finally found sign--old sign, I'll admit the buffalo I'm looking for--the last herd on the plains.

For two years I've been hunting this herd.