. He never let go until I was within
fifty feet of him. Then I almost rode him down. I don't think the calf
was much hurt. But those blood-thirsty devils will return, and like as
not get the calf. That's the worst of cattle raising. Now, take the
buffalo. Do you suppose those wolves could have gotten a buffalo calf
out from under the mother? Never. Neither could a whole band of wolves.
Buffalo stick close together, and the little ones do not stray. When
danger threatens, the herd closes in and faces it and fights. That is
what is grand about the buffalo and what made them once roam the
prairies in countless, endless droves."

From the highest elevation in that part of the range we viewed the
surrounding ridges, flats and hollows, searching for the buffalo. At
length we spied a cloud of dust rising from behind an undulating mound,
then big black dots hove in sight.

"Frank has rounded up the herd, and is driving it this way. We'll
wait," said Jones.

Though the buffalo appeared to be moving fast, a long time elapsed
before they reached the foot of our outlook. They lumbered along in a
compact mass, so dense that I could not count them, but I estimated the
number at seventy-five. Frank was riding zigzag behind them, swinging
his lariat and yelling. When he espied us he reined in his horse and
waited. Then the herd slowed down, halted and began browsing.

"Look at the cattalo calves," cried Jones, in ecstatic tones. "See how
shy they are, how close they stick to their mothers."

The little dark-brown fellows were plainly frightened. I made several
unsuccessful attempts to photograph them, and gave it up when Jones
told me not to ride too close and that it would be better to wait till
we had them in the corral.

He took my camera and instructed me to go on ahead, in the rear of the
herd. I heard the click of the instrument as he snapped a picture, and
then suddenly heard him shout in alarm: "Look out! look out! pull your
horse!"

Thundering hoof-beats pounding the earth accompanied his words. I saw a
big bull, with head down, tail raised, charging my horse. He answered
Frank's yell of command with a furious grunt. I was paralyzed at the
wonderfully swift action of the shaggy brute, and I sat helpless. Spot
wheeled as if he were on a pivot and plunged out of the way with a
celerity that was astounding. The buffalo stopped, pawed the ground,
and angrily tossed his huge head. Frank rode up to him, yelled, and
struck h