When struck the buffalo uttered a bellow of pain and went down on his knees. But he quickly arose, and now came straight for the boys, his head down, as if to gore them to death.
Crack! It was Barry's rifle which spoke up, and the buffalo staggered, hit on the head, a glancing blow, however, which did little damage.
By this time Joe had reloaded, but he did not fire at once, hoping to get a closer shot at the beast. In the meantime the others of the herd had disappeared completely.
Soon the buffalo was less than fifty yards off, and not daring to wait longer Joe took steady aim and let drive. His rifle-barrel had been pointed at one of those gleaming, bloodshot eyes, and the bullet sped true, entering the brain of the beast. With a roar and a grunt the buffalo went down, tearing up a great patch of grass in his fall.
"Hi! what's all the shooting about?" The cry came from Benson, as he rode down the trail at a breakneck speed, rifle ready for use.
"A buffalo!" cried Darry.
"A buffalo? Look out for yourselves."
"Yes, take care," came from Captain Moore, who was behind the old scout.
"We've fixed him," said Joe, not without a good deal of pardonable pride.
"Fixed him?" Old Benson looked out upon
