o a loping trot
such as an Indian shows when hurriedly following a trail. He kept his
eyes on the fast receding animals, his interest being now centered on
the moment when they should reach the wood on the other side of the
prairie.

"It will be the death of him if they dash among the trees," he thought;
"for he will be struck by some limb and have his brains dashed out."

But such a catastrophe did not take place. The fleeing animals must have
known that their headlong speed could not be kept up among the trees and
undergrowth; so, when those at the head of the drove were close to the
edge of the wood they swerved to the left, and the others followed with
the same furious swiftness with which they had sped across the open.

Fred Linden at this time was not a third of the way across the prairie,
and he stopped and viewed the sight. He could distinguish the animals
much better than when they were tearing straight away from him. They
ran, so to speak, from under the cloud of dust that had obscured his
vision, which, sweeping backward, left all in plain view.

What he saw, too, showed that the buffaloes possessed varying rates of
speed. A dozen were well to the front, still crowding close together,
while the rest, also in close order, were strung along at different
distances. Still, they were so far from Fred that his view was any thing
but satisfactory. Shading his eyes with his hand, he peered through the
autumn air in the search for his friend.

"There he is!" he exclaimed, but the words were hardly out of his mouth
when he saw he was mistaken. The distance was too great for him to see
clearly.

"How long will this keep up?" was the question which he would have been
glad to answer, for it included the fate of Terence Clark. If his steed
should grow weary and fall behind the others, possibly he would give his
rider a chance to leap to the ground and make off; but the likelihood of
that taking place was so remote that Fred could feel no hope.

CHAPTER XXIX.

A YOUNG HUNTER'S STRATEGY.

Fred Linden walked rapidly forward until he reached the middle of the
prairie, when he paused and bent his eyes on the swiftly vanishing drove
of buffaloes. They were speeding at right angles to the course he had
been following, and, so far as he could judge at the distance, were on
the same dead run with which they started.

He was convinced that he was mistaken a brief while before, when, for a
moment, he thought he ca