It was agreed to pursue the buffalo herd for a way, at least. The frightened creatures had run from their feeding course. They had disappeared behind some round mounds to the northwest. This was almost as much off their trail as the buffaloes’ previous course had been. When the boys started on a heavy gallop after the game, the Grub Stake trail lay far to the south. The distance to the mounds was not above five miles. The horses took up the trail at an easy pace and when they mounted the first small eminence the buffaloes were still out of sight. “Whew!” exclaimed Digby. “I reckon they have run some distance, Chet.” “See that timber ahead?” replied his chum. “It’s an open piece, and there is probably a stream in it, or just the other side of it. The buffaloes have gone no farther than the water, and may be feeding in the grove. If the latter, then we must approach very carefully. They can see us on the plain before we can see them in the timber.” “Now you’re shouting, old boy!” cried Dig, admiringly. “Say! you’re a regular plainsman.” “It stands to reason,” Chet returned, “we’ve got to use our heads if we expect to ever shoot one of those buffaloes.” “Oh, cricky, Chet! If we only could,” said Dig longingly. “Keep your heart up. Maybe we shall,” said Chet stoutly. “Now, let me tell you what I think.” “Spout, brother, spout.” “If that herd gets quiet again and goes to feeding, how will the animals head?” Dig immediately saw what he meant, and nodded. “Into the wind, of course,” he said. “And the breeze holds steady, and is likely to do so until sundown,” Chet proceeded. “Well?” “What we want to do, then, is to make a circle to the west and come up behind the feeding herd, just as we did before. Let us not cross this plain to the timber. We’ll keep along the line of these mounds and at their foot, and find some place to cross over to the timber and the water under shelter. Come on,” and he swung Hero’s head about. “Just one minute, Chet,” said his chum timidly, as he urged Poke to follow the other horse. “What’s that?” “Don’t you think we ought to eat?” “Do you want to waste time now making camp, and cooking, and all that? Right in the middle of stalking that herd?” “Whew! I’ll have to pull in my belt a hole or two, then,” grumbled Dig. “Pull it in then. No stop until we have another chance at the buffaloes—or until night comes and stops us,” declared his chum firmly. “We’re real hunters now. We’re not playing at it!”