The great plains lay hot and parched at sunset. Silent and lonely it was, too, for the drought of weeks had been so terrific that even the usually sociable little prairie dogs stayed in their holes to escape the scorching heat. At sunset they were beginning to liven up, and all other wild things which had stayed in the cool places were coming out. Between the dried, stunted clumps of mesquite trees, and the sagebrush patches, certain dark shadows skulked: the coyotes were starting off upon their nightly raids. The little prairie chickens had gone to roost, but the hooting of the small brown-barred owls which lived in the earth burrows, had begun among the sage-brush thickets.  
A coyote, stealing in and out along its trail, suddenly squatted upon its lean haunches, resting upon the raised dirt of a dog village. From this site it peered curiously off into the distance, for its bleary, green eyes saw something moving against the sky-line. What the coyote saw was this: a great, black, hulking, moving object was stumbling its way westward, following the last golden glow of the sunset, and, as the creature watched, it made out another, smaller figure, following close beside the large one. Then, after satisfying its curiosity the coyote raised its lean snout, and howled dismally from sheer disappointment, for that which he hoped might be game had turned out to be nothing but just an old, sick or wounded buffalo, followed by her little calf. The sight so disgusted the half-starved coyote, that it started in an opposite direction on a slinking run, for with all its meanness it will not pursue another which is wounded.
 
The huge mother buffalo stumbled bravely on and on; she was very weak, for she still carried an Indian's arrow in her side. How she had managed to escape at all with her calf was a wonder. The herd had stampeded, and somehow, after they had gone, she found herself wounded, alone with her calf. Lowing to the little fellow, she encouraged it to follow her and all day they had journeyed over the long, hot trail. If she could only manage to find water, then she could wallow, and perhaps her stinging wound would heal. Occasionally she stumbled, almost breaking her leg as she plunged into the hole of some dog village which her glazing old eyes had not seen.
 
Suddenly she raised her great shaggy head, and roared out a low cry of triumph; she had scented water. She urged on the weary, tottering steps of her calf, pushing him on ahead with her nose, lowing gently and affectionately, encouraging it to hold out a little longer, for soon they would come to the beautiful, longed-for water hole.
 
They entered a small canyon between two notches, and right down in a hollow, a short distance off, the little new moon flashed a gleam across the water. As soon as they had quenched their dreadful thirst, the mother dropped down heavily among the undergrowth, and the little calf, already refreshed, stepped in and out of the thickets, cropping contentedly among the tender cactus sprouts and arrow weed. Mogul, the calf, perhaps wondered, the next morning as the sun beat its hot way into the canyon, why his mother did not rise as usual from her all-night resting place, and low for him to follow her. After a time he understood, for such is the keen instinct of the wild; she would never rise again. Thus did Mogul, the calf buffalo, begin his lonely life. His brave mother had just managed to lead him into the safe canyon for water, and then had died.
 
Mogul was an unusually fine, large calf, for his age. He was full of courage and daring, but he stayed safe in the canyon, where the forage was plentiful and water never failed him, for a long while, every day growing bigger and stronger. When spring came and the passes began to grow bright with gay-coloured flowers, the water holes bubbled, and prairie chickens called their "Coos, coos, coos" from the thickets; then Mogul began to look about and long for companionship, for he was lonely. He noticed the happy frolics of the jack-rabbits with approving, gentle eyes. Contentedly chewing the cud, he would watch the prairie dogs romping happily in and out of the doors of their villages. A bark from the watching sentinel would sound an alarm note, and, like a flash, they would vanish into a hundred holes. With the sprouting of his small, sharp black horns came a sudden restlessness to Mogul. He remembered the herd, so he determined to leave the canyon and find them.
 
He had never encountered any real danger in his life as yet, never heard the swish of an Indian's arrow, or sighted a painted, brown body topped off with painted feathers, astride a loping pony. Once on the open plains he would soon find out about all these things for himself. Through the mouth of the sheltering canyon travelled Mogul, so full of courage and life that he gambolled and leaped playfully by the way; he would shake his huge, top-heavy head, and rip up great tufts of sage-brush with his sharp horns. Occasionally he halted, bellowing fiercely and stamping. A yellow, diamond-back rattlesnake presumed to coil and rattle at him impudently, right in his path. Knowing no fear, Mogul charged at it, sending it spinning high in the air, then stamping it out beneath his shining hoofs.
 
The sun baked down mercilessly upon his heavy coat out on the open plain, where there was no shelter. Almost he wished himself back in the canyon. Gnats bit right through his tough hide; he swung his great head incessantly and angrily, lashing them with his tail; still they clung, biting and stinging his flesh until blood flowed. The plains stretched on ahead with no companionship in sight. Poor, lonely Mogul! For days he had not tasted water. If he could but find a water hole, he would wallow and rid himself of the stinging pests. That night he reached a small, brackish pool of water and, dropping into a moist place, Mogul rolled about until he had made a fine hole about as long and wide as himself. Into this the water gradually oozed and, with a snort of joy, Mogul rolled his tormented body about, coating himself well with the wet clay which cured the biting stings. Early next morning a stray buffalo cow came to the pool; she was young and very pleasing, and Mogul's joy seemed complete, for he had found company. That night the pair caught up with the great herd and joined it. Black King, leader of the great herd, had never been crossed, but as soon as Mogul appeared he disapproved of him, because of his jealous disposition, for the old leader noticed that Mogul was fully as large as himself, and even more powerful—a born leader. The Black King was growing old; he feared this stranger might become a favourite with the herd, which might desert him, as they frequently did, for a younger l............