"But to come back to where we started from," went on Dave. "There is a difference between being a white man's slave and being an Indian captive. The whites don't kill their slaves or torture them." "They torture some of 'em," replied Henry. "I've seen a negro whipped till it made my blood boil. Of course the majority of 'em are treated fairly good." "A darkey who has a good home on the plantation has nuthin' to complain on," said Barringford. "His master feeds him, clothes him, and takes care of him when he's sick. In nine cases out of ten he's better off nor he would be if he had to shift fer himself." "I shouldn't wonder if we had trouble some day over this slave question," came from Henry. "If they bring too many over, the slaves may rise up some day and try to wipe the whites out." "Don't you fear for thet, Henry; they ain't equal to it, nohow." "But if they join with the Injuns?" "They'll never do thet nuther, an' you know it. A good darky ain't got no opinion at all o' a redskin--they hate 'em wuss nor p'ison." How long the fruitless discussion might have lasted there is no telling, but during a brief pause Henry chanced to glance across the prairie and uttered an exclamation. "Something is moving yonder. What is it?" Barringford leaped to his feet and gave a long, earnest look. "Buffaloes!" he said laconically. "Two on 'em!" "Can we catch them?" queried Dave. "We can try, lad. But keep under cover. They seem to be coming this way." All three hurried back to the foremost trees in the forest, carrying their guns as they did so. Luckily the camp-fire had died out, so there was no smoke to alarm the animals. Further in the forest the horses were tethered, having had their fill of grass two hours before. "Better see if the horses are ready for use, Henry," said Barringford. "We may have to do some tall riding for our game." "I will," answered Henry, and ran back without loss of time. The three steeds were quickly saddled, and then the young hunter brought them forward in a bunch, still, however, keeping them out of sight of the prairie. It was now seen that the buffaloes were indeed moving in the direction of the camp. The two that had at first appeared were followed by eight or ten others, who kept in a bunch several rods behind the leaders. "Oh, what a chance for big game!" whispered Dave. "If only we had two or three guns apiece!" "Never mind, we have our pistols," came from Henry. "They'll count for something at close quarters." "Whatever you do, don't all fire at once," cautioned Barringford. "One bullet may not be enough for one of the buffaloes. I'll fire first, and if he don't fall then Henry can fire, and then Dave." Anxiously they waited for the big game to come within gun shot. The buffaloes moved slowly, and to Dave it appeared an age before even half the distance was covered. "Oh, pshaw! They are turning to the northward!" cried Henry a few minutes later.