"I suppose," reflectively drawled , in the morning at breakfast, "that by the looks of things we're in for a dry march or two before we strike the on the other side. Anyway, we'd better fill the water keg, sure. And I opine you're to go ahead, to keep those horse tracks, while I follow with the cart."  
"Pike's Peak or Bust," responded Terry.
 
They started early, to push on at best speed. Duke , Jenny sighed, the cart creaked, Harry whistled, Shep before and on either hand, at the trails and charging the prairie dogs and little brown birds, and Terry, in the advance, faithfully kept to the hoof-prints.
 
Perhaps the Pike's Peak pilgrims who had turned off had been wise, for the water certainly was failing. Now there were only a few shallow washes, and these were dry as a bone, showing that the top of the low prairie divide was being crossed. Still, with a full water keg, which would give several good drinks to all, and with the horse tracks to follow, and the Republican side of the divide somewhere ahead, there was no cause for worry.
 
Duke and Jenny stepped . Terry felt a pride in the thought that the Pike's Peak Limited was the first overland on the new stage trail. He wondered if they would beat the wheel-barrow man in to the diggin's. Maybe they would! He wondered when they would sight the mountains. Tomorrow? No, scarcely tomorrow. The horizon ahead was a complete half-circle, broken by never an up-lift. In fact, 'twas hard to believe that any mountains at all lay in that direction.
 
At noon Harry guessed that they had covered ten miles, and he figured on covering another ten miles before evening camp. He was anxious to reach the next water. The cart was not much of a drag, and both Duke and Jenny were strong. So at the noon camp everybody had a little drink, and Duke and Jenny had a little grass, and a little . Shep snored. A good dog, Shep.
 
"It's queer how little game we've seen, except measley rabbits," observed Harry, that evening. "Only some , and one old buffalo bull at a distance."
 
"And no Indians, either," added Terry.
 
"Well, expect the Indians are with the buffalo or else begging along the main trails," reasoned Harry. "But we'd better hobble both animals short, anyway, so they won't stray off looking for water."
 
The sun had set gloriously in a clear and golden west. While camp was being located in the open, the broad expanse of rolling plain quickly empurpled; and in the Terry staked out Duke, by a rope and a around his fore-leg, and Jenny by a rope around her neck. When supper was finished, and the dishes with to save the water, the first stars had appeared in the sky.
 
Just before closing his eyes to sleep, Terry from his buffalo robe gazed up and sighed . It was a fine night.
 
The coyotes and the larger wolves seemed unusually busy. Their yaps and howls sounded frequently. Several times during the night Terry was conscious that Shep , and that Duke and Jenny were uneasy; he heard also a low , as of distant thunder, but he was too sleepy to sit up and look about. When he did unclose his eyes, to blink for a moment, he saw that the stars were still vivid in the blue-black sky overhead.
 
This was the last thought—and next he with a start, to pink dawn and Harry's ringing shout:
 
"Buffalo! Great Scott! Look at the buffalo!"
 
Harry was up, near the cart and gazing to the east. Up sprang Terry, too, and gazed. The rumble was distinct. A miracle had occurred between darkness and dawn—all the plain to the east was black with a living mass which had flowed upon it during the night.
 
Buffalo!
 
"I should say!" Terry.
 
"Must be ten thousand of them," called Harry.
 
"Look out for Jenny and Duke!"
 
Jenny was snorting, as the morning breeze bore the of the vast to her . No, did not like buffalo. Duke's head was high, as he stared. Harry had dressed; now he hurried to quiet the team. Terry drew on his trousers and boots and hastened after.
 
The buffalo were grazing, and seemed to be drifting slowly this way. The hither fringe was not a quarter of a mile from the camp. Bulls and pawed and rolled, gamboled and breakfasted, and around the mass prowled great gray buffalo wolves, waiting their chances. All was clear in the first rays of the rising sun.
 
Harry led the Jenny to the and tied her short.
 
"I think we'd better get right out of here," he announced, as he helped Terry and Shep drive the equally restive Duke in. "The coast ahead is clear. But if we wait for breakfast or anything, that herd's liable to be on top of us."
 
"Let's , then," agreed Terry. "They're coming this way, sure. I heard 'em, in the night, but I didn't know what it was."
 
"Same here," confessed Harry, as they to put Duke and Jenny to the cart, and pitch the camp stuff inside. "Funny where such a mob rose from. Reckon something set 'em traveling."
 
Jenny was quite ready to leave, but Duke was more reluctant. However, on started the Pike's Peak Limited again.
 
"We'll stop for breakfast when we're at a safer distance," quoth Harry. "Hope we reach water tonight."
 
Yes, the great herd was perceptibly nearer when they pulled out. But at the rate it was moving it could be left behind while it peacefully grazed. The thin brush was a-sparkle with dew, soon dried by the bright sun. The hoof-prints of the second horseman party showed plainly in the sod and sandy . Terry acted as guide, Harry, following with the cart, urged on Duke and Jenny.
 
"Reckon we'll come to another stake today," called back Terry.
 
"Reckon we will," answered Harry.
 
The rumble of the herd gradually died. The sun mounted higher, and Terry was thinking upon breakfast, when a sudden hail from Harry halted him.
 
"Wait! Listen!"
 
Harry had stopped.
 
"Whoa!" And Duke and Jenny stopped, not at all .
 
Terry stopped, . Another dull rumble! More buffalo? Nothing was in sight before or on either hand. The rumble came from behind—and yonder, against the sun, welled a cloud of dust.
 
"They've stampeded!" he cried.
 
"Sounds like it. And the question is, which way are they going?"
 
That was speedily answered.
 
" whillikens!" exclaimed Terry. "They're coming this way!"
 
A of the prairie had all save the dust; but now atop the swell had appeared black dots, succeeded instantly by a long wave of solid black, as over and down surged the whole herd, covering the back trail and pouring on with astonishing, not to say alarming rapidity. The flanks extended widely; there was no time for escaping to one side or the other. In fact, the cart seemed to be right in the middle of the broad path.
 
Harry acted quickly.
 
"Watch the animals!" he ordered. "I'll tend to this end. Don't lose your head, Terry. We can split 'em."
 
He limped to the rear of the wagon. Terry ran back to Duke—and saw that Harry had jerked the shot-gun from where it was stowed, and was posted out behind the wagon. The crowded ranks of the buffalo were so close that the earth trembled. Jenny trembled, also, and Duke was pawing and staring side-ways. Shep, barking wildly, took refuge the wagon.
 
Terry seized the whip, dropped by Harry, and threatened Duke from before.
 
"Steady, Duke! Jenny! Whoa! Whoa, now!"
 
"Steady, everybody!" yelled Harry, above the up-roar. The stampeding herd was upon them. Three or four of the fleetest cows raced past, , heads low, little tails cocked, with the rolling motion of the running buffalo; and close after pressed the whole mass—a crowded frontage of thundering , shaggy heads, eyes, lolling tongues, huge shoulders lunging, lion-like manes tossing, and slim, smooth hind-quarters bobbing up and down. And back from the front rank, these were all mixed together—solid!
 
Terry's heart beat wildly. An instant more, and——! Why, the cart outfit was only a in the path of this darkly rushing which would swallow them all in a jiffy and never know; would them flat!
 
He caught his breath, while trying to quiet Duke and Jenny. There was no use in running away—Harry stood braced—how small he looked—but he was plucky—and now he actually ran forward, a few steps, right against the rank—waved his hat—shouted—and bang! bang! warned the shot-gun, its challenge into the buffalos' faces.
 
"Duke! Jenny! Whoa!" Terry, desperately—and now gladly, for another miracle had occurred. The foremost buffalo, as if suddenly aware of the cart, and the human beings, had aside, to right and left, avoiding Harry, and the cart, and all; and following their leaders, to right and left were the others, here at the middle, so that the divided herd began to stream past in a heaving, jostling current, on either hand. It had been split, by Harry; and the Pike's Peak Limited was an island.
 
Harry continued to yell and wave his hat and arms. He stood there fearlessly, at the split. At first the split was narrow—Terry almost could touch the shaggy forms as they lurched by. He started to yell and wave, also, and help widen the split—for it did widen—but speedily he had to quit. Duke and Jenny were nervous enough already. Jenny snorted, reared; Duke shook his head and strained from side to side.
 
"Duke! Whoa! Steady, boy! Back, Jenny!"
 
The pounding of the hoofs was like the long-roll of a great drum. Thick rose the dust, but not so much from the earth as from the big hairy bodies, to which had clung dried dirt. Bulls, cows, and calves; cows, calves, and bulls—forming a , living lane of constant motion.
 
Terry scarcely could hear himself.
 
"Duke! Whoa, boy! Steady, there! Whoa, Jenny!"
 
Would the herd never be past? Yes, yonder it was thinning—and farther beyond, the stragglers were in sight. Good!
 
"Duke! Be careful, Duke!" He was growing more unmanageable. Terry danced before him, and threatened. "Whoa Jenny! Whoa, Duke!" And—"Duke! Duke! DUKE! Whoa-oa! DUKE!" But no use; with shake of angry head and of wickedly cocked tail Duke bolted; dragged Jenny and the cart together, knocked Terry sprawling—Terry clutched vainly at the cart, was dragged, himself, a few feet, staggered up, hatless, stumbled on the frightened Shep, and gazed after with a : "Oh, jiminy!"
 
They were away, in the dusty wake of the flying herd: Duke galloping, Jenny galloping, the cart bounding.
 
Harry had turned just in time to witness. His sweat-streaked face , amazed, , and hardened into sudden resolution as whirling he sprang forward. But Terry was as quick. Grabbing up his hat as he went, he launched in the pursuit. Out-stripping him, Shep ran furiously, barking, and Harry kept close behind.
 
The cart was plainly visible, in an open place among the stragglers at the rear of the herd. Duke , Jenny lumbered, the cart lumbered, and holding to the chase lumbered in their heavy boots Terry and Harry.
 
Soon it was evident that a harnessed buffalo was no match for free buffalo. Duke's outfit was being left; buffalo after buffalo passed it, until presently Duke and Jenny and the cart were traveling alone. But they kept going, on a stampede of their own, imitating the insensate herd.
 
"Darn that Duke!" panted Terry. And he shouted: "Sic', Shep! Turn 'em! Sic', sic'! Catch 'em, boy!"
 
Shep . He fairly tore through the brush. Now he had reached the cart—and now he was barking alongside the crazy team. Would he do it? Could he do it? Yes, he was trying to head them. He had gained the front; yapping, , snapping, he was crossing back and before Duke's nose. Down lower dropped Duke's burly head; he charged; Shep , and returned.
 
The cart swung and , and out was bounced the cask of sauerkraut.
 
"!" cheered Harry.
 
On at a tangent lumbered Duke and Jenny—Shep was bothering them seriously—and out bounced the water keg.
 
"Great Scott!" gasped Harry. "Don't let's lose that keg!"
 
"Shep'll stop 'em! Shep'll stop 'em!" panted Terry. "Hurrah!" His throat was tight, his heart tremendously, his legs were like lead, but he had hopes.
 
Shep knew his business of turning cattle. Now wherever the and Duke headed, the pesky, yapping, snapping dog was under his nose. Jenny was growing tired of being dragged hither-thither; she dogs, and she despised buffalo, tame or wild. Duke, at his wits' end, and tired also, stopped short; she stopped; Duke pawed and shook his locks and , keen yet for just one good chance at his tormentor—and Shep, sitting down, with tongue dripping, held the way.
 
There they were when, breathless, Terry and Harry arrived, to scold the , to praise Shep, and to take stock of damages.
 
"Not a thing broken, is there?" pronounced Harry, still panting, after the hasty survey.
 
And that appeared to be the case. Of course, the stuff inside the cart was pretty well ; but the frame and wheels seemed all right, and the harness was whole, and only Duke and Jenny themselves were the worse for wear. Their heads and heaving flanks proclaimed that they had run quite far enough.
 
So, thought Terry, had he and Harry. He felt as though he had run a mile or more. Whew!
 
"All's well that ends well," asserted Harry, his spirits. Nothing downed Harry. "Now, first thing to do is to get that keg of water. But I don't suppose we'll ever find the trail. The buffalo must have tramped it out—and we're away off the track, anyway. Shucks!"
 
"Where is the keg?" asked Terry, peering.
 
"There it is—that first dot. See? The gunny sacks are beyond, and the sauerkraut last. Let's turn the critters about. You bring them on and I'll go ahead. Maybe something else was jounced out."
 
Duke and Jenny were turned, after considerable shouting and shoving; Harry set off on a straight line for the keg, and Terry followed more slowly with the team and cart. It did seem rather tough luck that they had lost the horsemen's trail to the next stake; now they'd simply have to guess at direction, unless they happened to be near the stage line and a stage came.
 
Golly, but he was thirsty! His mouth was glued. He hoped that they all—that is, Harry and he and Shep—would get a good drink from that keg. As for Duke and Jenny, they did not deserve a drink, although doubtless they needed one. And what about something to eat?
 
Harry was waiting at the keg, a queer look on his , grimy face. He had set the keg on end.
 
"Thirsty?" he .
 
"Thirsty's no name for it," panted Terry.
 
"So am I. But we'll have to go easy. The bung flew out of the keg, and half the water's followed. I found the bung, but I can't find the water."
 
Harry evidently tried to speak lightly, but Terry read concern in his tone and face both.
 
"Can you stand a short drink?" encouraged Harry. "There'll be plenty on ahead somewhere."
 
"Sure," declared Terry, manfully, feeling thirstier than ever. "We've got a little, haven't we? And if we strike that trail maybe it'll lead us to a ."
 
So they in the keg, tightly stoppered again (but it was suspiciously light), and Harry ahead once more, to find the gunny sacks.
 
"We'll never mind the sauerkraut," he called back. "Let it stay. The we travel, the better, from here to water."
 
Shep went with him. They dipped into a shallow, narrow draw; Terry heard Shep barking, and then Harry hallooing. And when, urging Duke and Jenny, he could see into the draw, Harry was there, at one side, and shouting to him, and at the same time examining some object on the ground.
 
"Haw, Duke! Haw! Hep with you!" Along the shallow draw they , for he was afraid to leave the team.
 
Harry was kneeling, Shep was nosing and busily waving his tail. They were engaged over that object. It could not be the gunny sacks. The gunny sacks had not rolled so far from the back trail.
 
"Whoa-oa, Duke, Jenny! Stand, now!" And Terry trudged a few steps to join the . He stopped short, .
 
Harry and Shep had found a man—no, looked more like a boy; lying and motionless in a little saucer-shaped hollow amidst the brush.
 
"Say! Is he dead?" gasped Terry.
 
"No. Hasn't even been stepped on, I think," answered Harry. "But he needs food and water bad—'specially water. Open the keg, quick."