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Updated: June 5, 2025
"I'd give my right hand ruther than see ye kilt," said Barringford huskily. "Next time we go out I reckon as how we'll keep close together." "It's strange you didn't get on my trail," returned Henry. "You are usually a good one at such things." "The downpour washed out the tracks," said James Morris. "I'm not so good at such things as White Buffalo is," answered Sam Barringford bluntly.
Bang! went the second weapon, and the bullet lodged but a few inches below that sent in by Henry. On went the wounded creature, limping painfully, but still making good time, especially where the snow on the rocks was partly swept away. "Come on after him!" yelled Henry, reloading with all speed. "I don't think he can get away!" He had scarcely spoken when Barringford took aim and let drive.
Sam Barringford had come up close to the others, and now without more words all three headed for the post. It was easy to discern that the old frontiersman was well-nigh exhausted, and he was glad enough to take hold of James Morris' shoulder on one side and Tony Jadwin's on the other. "Been a prisoner of them skunks, fire burn 'em!" he explained. "I'll tell ye all about it later.
The keen wind cut like a knife, and they knew that it was this which had exhausted the old frontiersman they were trying to succor. Almost blinded, and nearly out of wind themselves, they at last reached the split tree, to find Sam Barringford crouched behind a mass of the snow-laden branches. He had a large pack on his back and also a bundle in his arms.
"Save me!" "I will!" answered Barringford, and leaped from his horse, hunting-knife in hand. The blade was plunged deeply into a wolf that had Henry by the left arm. Dave used his musket as a club, and another of the beasts was sent staggering back with a broken jaw. What few remained of the beasts were scared by the new arrivals, and now they made off at top speed.
"It ought to be returned, whether we get a reward or not." "Exactly as I think." There was a narrow passageway behind the chamber and Sam Barringford squeezed into this. "Don't reckon I can make it," he panted presently. "Seems like I was a leetle too hefty. Dave, do you want to try it? Might be an opening to the outside world, an' if there is, we won't have to go through thet water ag'in."
"Reckon as how you've had your fill o' buffalo huntin' jest for the present," said Barringford, when the narratives were concluded. "Buffaloes an' wolves is a terribul bad combination." "Where is your game?" questioned Henry. "About two mile from here, I reckon." "Perhaps the wolves will be after that." "Can't help it if they air, lad.
If the spell of magic is broken, Pontiac may fall as falls the mighty tree of the forest before the hurricane." "I must say I don't quite follow ye, Buffalo," came from Barringford. "Where is Pontiac going?" "To the woods, where the waters fall in the sunshine. White Buffalo thinks he knows the spot, but he is not sure." "Why should we follow him?" "White Buffalo cannot explain.
Morris, Barringford, and Henry, for they had expected beyond a doubt to find the captive there. "All we can do is to continue on the trail," said James Morris promptly. "I shall not turn back until he is found." "Nor I," added Henry promptly. "We're bound to catch 'em some time," came from the old frontiersman. "Don't you think so, White Buffalo?"
The forest was thick before them and they could hear the elk crashing along in a blind fashion, which indicated that he was speedily becoming exhausted. Once they heard him stop, but before they could reach the spot he was off again, at a still slower pace. "We've got him now," said Barringford grimly. "Might as well slack up and wait for Henry."
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