inch, foot by foot, the Indians gained upon him, the leader
considerably in advance.

Even if he alone were to overtake Tom, our hero would of course be no
match for a strong, full-grown warrior, more especially as he had no
weapon with him. By some mischance he had left it in the camp.

Tom's heart began to fail him. His horse could not always, perhaps not
long, keep up his headlong speed. Then would follow capture, and a
painful death.

"It's hard," thought Tom sadly; "hard for me and for my dear parents and
brothers and sisters. Why did I ever leave home?"

He turned in the saddle, and saw the Indian leader, evidently nearer.
But he saw something else. He saw a herd of buffaloes, thousands in
number, impetuously rushing across the plain from the west. Their speed
was great. They seemed to be blindly following their leader.

"Good heavens!" ejaculated Tom, in great excitement; "the Indians are in
their path. If the herd does not stop, they will be destroyed."

The Indians were fully aware of their great danger. They knew the plains
well, and the terrible, resistless power of these wild herds when once
on the march. They no longer thought of Tom, but of their own safety.
But the buffaloes were close at hand. They were sweeping on like a
whirlwind. The Indians could only ride on, and trust to clear them. But
their pathway was wide. It reached to within a furlong of where Tom was
riding. They never paused; some of the animals in the advance might have
veered to the right or left on seeing the Indians, but the pressure from
behind prevented. The savages saw their fate, and it inspired them with
more dread than an encounter with white foes. Finally, they halted in
despair, and their fate overtook them. Riders and steeds were overthrown
as by a flash of lightning. The dark, shaggy herd did not stop, but
dashed on. Tom, in awe and excitement, halted his horse, and watched the
terrible sight. He could not but sympathize with his late companions,
though he knew they would have taken his life.

The buffaloes passed on, but left no life behind them. The Indians and
their horses were all trampled to death. Tom was alone upon the plains.

He thanked God in his heart for his self-deliverance; though he
shuddered at the manner in which it was wrought. He, too, had been near
being overwhelmed, but, through God's mercy, had escaped.

But for what had he escaped? Unless he found his own party, or some
other, he would starve to