shooting party with so large a contingent of horses and men would preclude any further detachment from the camp to assist them.  Once clear, they would follow the track of the hunters, and, if discovered by them, would offer the same excuse, with the addition that they had lost their way to the camp.  The plan was successful.  The details were carried out with almost too perfect effect; as it appeared that Jim, in order to give dramatic intensity to the fractiousness of Clarence’s horse, had inserted a thorn apple under the neck of his saddle, which Clarence only discovered in time to prevent himself from being unseated.  Urged forward by ostentatious “Whoas!” and surreptitious cuts in the rear from Jim, pursuer and pursued presently found themselves safely beyond the half-dry stream and fringe of alder bushes that skirted the camp.  They were not followed.  Whether the teamsters suspected and winked at this design, or believed that the boys could take care of themselves, and ran no risk of being lost in the proximity of the hunting party, there was no general alarm.

Thus reassured, and having a general idea of the direction of the hunt, the boys pushed hilariously forward.  Before them opened a vast expanse of bottom land, slightly sloping on the right to a distant half-filled lagoon, formed by the main river overflow, on whose tributary they had encamped.  The lagoon was partly hidden by straggling timber and “brush,” and beyond that again stretched the unlimitable plains—­the pasture of their mighty game.  Hither, Jim hoarsely informed his companion, the buffaloes came to water.  A few rods further on, he started dramatically, and, alighting, proceeded to slowly examine the ground.  It seemed to be scattered over with half-circular patches, which he pointed out mysteriously as “buffalo chip.”  To Clarence’s inexperienced perception the plain bore a singular resemblance to the surface of an ordinary unromantic cattle pasture that somewhat chilled his heroic fancy.  However, the two companions halted and professionally examined their arms and equipments.

These, I grieve to say, though varied, were scarcely full or satisfactory.  The necessities of their flight had restricted Jim to an old double-barreled fowling-piece, which he usually carried slung across his shoulders; an old-fashioned “six-shooter,” whose barrels revolved occasionally and unexpectedly, known as “Allen’s Pepper Box” on account of its culinary resemblance; and a bowie-knife.  Clarence carried an Indian bow and arrow with which he had been exercising, and a hatchet which he had concealed under the flanks of his saddle.  To this Jim generously added the six-shooter, taking the hatchet in exchange—­a transfer that at first delighted Clarence, until, seeing the warlike and picturesque effect of the hatchet in Jim’s belt, he regretted the transfer.  The gun, Jim meantime explained “extry charged,” “chuck up” to the middle with slugs and revolver bullets, could