“What did you do with the Panther and Obed?” asked Fields.

“The last I saw of them they had been dismounted and were being chased over the plain by two big bull buffaloes.  The horns of the buffaloes were then not more than a foot from the seats of their trousers.  So I caught their horses, and I have brought them back to camp.”

“I take it,” said Fields, “that you’ve had good luck.”

“We have had the finest of luck,” replied Ned.  “We ran into a group of fifteen or twenty buffaloes, and we brought down two fine, young cows.  I came back for two more men to help with them, and on my way I shot these turkeys.”

Fields and another man named Carter returned with Ned.  Young Allen was extremely anxious to go, but the others were chosen on account of their experience with the work.  They found that Obed and the Panther had already done the most of it, and when it was all finished Fields and Carter started back with the three horses, heavily laden.  As the night promised to be mild, and the snow was gone, Ned, Obed and the Panther remained in the grove with the rest of their food supply.

They also wished to preserve the two buffalo robes, and they staked them out upon the ground, scraping them clean of flesh with their knives.  Then they lighted a fire and cooked as much of the tender meat as they wished.  By this time it was dark and they were quite ready to rest.  They put out the fire and raked up the beds of leaves on which they would spread their blankets.  But first they enjoyed the relaxation of the nerves and the easy talk that come after a day’s work well done.

“It certainly has been a fine day for us,” said Obed.  “Sometimes I like to go through the bad days, because it makes the good days that follow all the better.  Yesterday we were wandering around in the snow, and we had nothing, to-day we have a magnificent city home, that is to say, the cabin, and a beautiful country place, that is to say, this grove.  I can add, too, that our nights in our country place are spent to the accompaniment of music.  Listen to that beautiful song, won’t you?”

A long, whining howl rose, sank and died.  After an interval they heard its exact duplicate and the Panther remarked tersely: 

“Wolves.  Mighty hungry, too.  They’ve smelled our buffalo meat and they want it.  Guess from their big voices that they’re timber wolves and not coyotes.”

Ned knew that the timber wolf was a much larger and fiercer animal than his prairie brother, and he did not altogether like this whining sound which now rose and died for the third time.

“Must be a dozen or so,” said the Panther, noticing the increasing volume of sound.  “We’ll light the fire again.  Nothing is smarter than a wolf, an’ I don’t want one of those hulkin’ brutes to slip up, seize a fine piece of buffalo and dash away with it.  But fire will hold ’em.  How a wolf does dread it!  The little red flame is like a knife in his heart.”