They remembered the gypsum hills over which they had ridden on the preceding day.

They remembered, too, that it had rained in the night.

The buffaloes had been among these hills; and, according to their usual habit, had rolled and wallowed about in the wetted dust-heaps.

The white, alabaster-like mud had adhered to their skins--thus giving them the colour which had so much deceived and mystified our hunters! "Well," exclaimed Basil, giving a kick to the body of the dead bull, "even _black_ buffalo is not so bad after all.

At the worst we shall have fresh meat for dinner; and with that let us console ourselves for the disappointment." So saying, Basil made signs to his brothers to assist; and all three set about preparing to skin the animal..