Naturally, the elks charging down into the herd startled the buffaloes before the boys themselves were seen. Most of the buffaloes sprang away on a gallop. But the young bull for which Dig aimed was too late. The boy fitted the heavy rifle-stock snugly into his shoulder—no chance for it to kick him this time—and fired almost over Poke’s ears at the huge brown body. He made a bull’s-eye. The thud of the bullet could be heard plainly by both furiously riding boys. But he did not hit a vital spot, having aimed too far back of the foreleg. Chet had checked Hero, riding to give to his chum all the room he needed. The other buffaloes scuttled across the plain so rapidly that the bay—heavily loaded as he was—could scarcely have caught them and so given his master a shot. The stricken bull did not follow his mates, but wheeled on Poke and, head down, charged him and his rider. “Look out, Dig!” shouted Chet in superfluous warning. The buffalo moved with surprising swiftness; but even at that Dig could have easily got in a second shot had the mechanism of his rifle not fouled for a second. That second was long enough to put the boy in danger. For the charge of the wounded buffalo meant peril. Chet yelled and urged Hero after the angry animal. The bull buffalo was not blind with rage, whatever else he was. He turned as nimbly as a cat, in spite of his bulk, and was fairly upon the black horse as the latter wheeled to escape. “Shoot him, Chet!” begged Dig, dropping his rifle to save himself from a fall as Poke whirled. The mustang leaped away, but the maddened bull was right at his heels. Of course, given a few moments, Poke could have distanced the buffalo; but at the time, the situation was serious. Chet, on Hero, came thundering along upon the buffalo’s off side. The boy had not raised his rifle to his shoulder, but he was alert. “Shoot!” again begged Dig, in alarm. Chet forced the snorting bay up beside the charging buffalo. He leaned over suddenly, clapping the rifle-butt to his shoulder, and looked over the sights directly at a patch behind the fore-shoulder. When the rifle spoke the huge head of the buffalo was almost under Poke’s belly. The buffalo ran with his nose barely clearing the ground. Now his head dropped, struck into the sod, and so swiftly was he going that the momentum caused the bull to turn a complete somersault. The ball had gone through the buffalo’s heart, and he was instantly dead. The boys pulled in their horses to blow, and to look at their wonderful quarry. “Whew!” wheezed Dig, rather shakily, “that was great, old man. I believe he’d have had me and Poke.” “Oh, Dig! isn’t it a great kill?” gasped Chet, just as excited as he could be. “To think of us killing a big buffalo like this!” “Lots I had to do with it,” grumbled his chum. “It was your shot brought him down.” “But if it hadn’t been for your wounding him, I don’t think he’d be lying here at all. They’re pretty tough creatures to kill, boy.”