"Well, keep still now, Roger. Not another word, but hold yourself ready to start that fire soon. If you listen hard you may hear the horn blow for dinner like it does at home when we are out in the field. Silence now, Mayhew must think he sees our game." Indeed, the actions of the guide would give any one to understand something like that. He was moving along with his body bent over, and gripping his faithful rifle in both hands. Although both of the boys used their eyes to the best advantage they could not see anything to hearten them; but then the strain on their nerves, because of all that blinding snow, may have had something to do with this failure. Mayhew turned quickly toward them. He said not a word, but his lips moved, and he nodded his head in a manner that thrilled the boys. It had long ago been decided just what their tactics should be in case they were so fortunate as to come up with the quarry. Neither of them meant to fire until they had managed to get so close to the game that one shot alone would be necessary to bring the animal down. Of course, when their presence was discovered, the buffalo would start off at as brisk a pace as possible, in order to escape from his human enemies. They believed, however, the animal must be nearly tired out from breasting the deep drifts so long, and that its burst of speed could not last any great while. If it became absolutely necessary, they were prepared to risk everything on a long-distance shot, and the hope of wounding the animal. This would hasten its halting at least, when it could be dispatched at their pleasure, even though they used knife and hatchet to accomplish this. Roger must have been greatly impressed with what Dick had said to him, for he remained perfectly still after that, at least so far as giving voice to his feelings was concerned. Dick had pushed on ahead of his cousin, as he had announced he intended to do on account of holding one of the loaded guns. Side by side with Mayhew he now advanced along the fresh trail. Even a novice could see that some animal must have passed only a few minutes before, for there were places where snow actually fell over into the tracks, as though it had been balanced on the edge of the depression. The anxious waiting that almost made them sick at heart ended at last. Dick caught a scuffling sound that came from beyond the next line of bushes. Something was moving there, and he could easily imagine that the hungry buffalo, scenting some sort of grass under the snow, might be trying to get down to it. Bending lower still, they pushed on, with eyes glued on the spot where those significant sounds came from. In another minute they would be able to look over the tops of the bushes and see what lay beyond. Then, if all was well, a lucky shot would procure them the meat of which they were in such desperate need.