“Cricky! I should say they were. And as wicked as lions or bears. Whew! I feel as though I’d had a narrow escape, Chet.” “I reckon you have!” “And that confounded old rifle! It fouled just as I tried to work the lever.” “Well! let’s be glad it was no worse. And, Dig! we’ve got the buffalo—the first buffalo we ever shot.” “You’re a wonder, Chet,” declared his generous chum. “You put that ball right where it would do the most good. I lost my head completely—I own up to that. Talk about elk fever! that creature looked as big as a house to me,” and Dig laughed. “It is a mystery to me how such a big creature could be killed by only two bullets,” said Chet. They had dismounted now and stood beside the inert body of the buffalo bull. “I read, though, that some Indians when riding to kill a buffalo would force their ponies close up to the running beast and drive an arrow clear through his body. What do you know about that?” “Don’t know anything about it,” returned Dig, with a whimsical look, “but I think that the fellow that told that ought to be woke up—he was lying on his back!” “I don’t know about its being a dream. Before they got to fooling with the cast-off firearms of the white man, the Indian must have done a lot of killing with arrows and spears.” “That’s all right. You can have such hardware if you want,” returned Dig. “Give me a rifle every time.” “Even if it fouls in the breach?” chuckled Chet. Every creature but themselves and their mounts had disappeared from the plain by this time. They straightened the dead beast out and then rolled it on its back. Much as he deplored any delay at this time, Chet could not think of going on and leaving the hide of the buffalo. Butchering the huge creature would be hard work for two boys with their little experience in such work; but they needed a part of the animal for food. Dig vowed he could eat it all—horns and hide—he was so hungry! They picketed the horses, removed their own coats, and whetted their knives. It was difficult work to get the hide off the buffalo, for the carcass weighed all of six hundred pounds—all the weight the two boys could possibly roll on the clean sward. They were more than an hour in getting the hide clear; Dig was satisfied to give up the idea of saving the head for mounting, although Chet managed it so that the horns came with the hide. “Say! that’ll be something to show ’em back home!” panted Dig, holding up the fore part of the hide. “Cricky, Chet! we ought to have been photographed beside of this beast. Whew! he looks bigger now he’s skinned than he did before. Wish somebody that needed it had all this meat.” “I wish he did,” agreed Chet. “But never mind,” said Dig, the next minute. “We need some of it right now. Wish we had something to boil the tongue in.” But they opened the carcass to drain it (as well as it could be drained on the ground) and cut out several ribs for their own supper.