The buffaloes showed a great black mass across the plain,
extending for fully a mile, and they were moving north at an even gait.
The Panther watched until the last had passed, and he judged that there
were fully a hundred thousand animals in the herd. He saw also the big
timber wolves hanging on the rear and flanks, ready to cut out stray
calves or those weak from old age. So busy were the wolves seeking a
chance that they did not notice the gigantic figure of the man, rifle on
shoulder, who stood on the crest of the swell looking at them as they
passed.
The Panther's eyes followed the black line of the herd until it
disappeared under the northern rim of darkness. He was wondering why the
buffaloes were traveling so steadily after daylight and he came to the
conclusion that the impelling motive was not a search for new pastures.
He listened a long time until the last rumble of the hundred thousand
died away in a faint echo, and then he awakened his comrades.
"I'm thinkin'," he said, "that the presence of Urrea's band made the
buffaloes move. Now I'm not a Ring Tailed Panther an' a Cheerful Talker
for nothin', an' we want to hunt that band. Like as not they've been
doin' some mischief, which we may be able partly to undo.
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