Frank and Barney had taken care not to slaughter any of the game they saw, although they had been tempted by wild geese, which were so tame they would hardly get out of the way, and by deer and bears innumerable.
The lads believed in the laws which protected these creatures, and knew that this great game preserve and breeding-ground, if not disturbed, must always give an overflow into Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho, which will make big game shooting there for years to come.
Frank led the way at a swift pace, keeping the ridge between them and the buffalo for a time, and then making use of other shelter.
It was nearly an hour before they came round to the windward side of the herd and began working in upon it.
All at once, with a low exclamation, Frank stopped, shifted his position quickly, and hissed:
"Down, Barney!"
"Pwhat is it, Frankie?"
"Be careful! Look there by the base of that bluff. Can you see them?"
"Oi see something moving. Pwhat is it?"
"Hunters, I reckon."
"Afther th' boofalo?"
"Yes. They are nearer than we are, and they will be taking a shot at the creatures in a minute. It's a shame! If the soldier-police were only here!"
"Nivver a bit do Oi loike th' oidea av seein' thim boofalo shot onliss Oi can do th' shootin'."
"No more do I, and I am not going to stand it! Come on, Barney. We'll get after those fellows. We may be able to stop them before they shoot, and then get a picture of the buffalo afterward. Lively now."
The boys sprang to their feet and went running toward the spot near the base of the bluff, where they had seen men moving. As they ran, they crouched low, holding their rifles at their sides, and taking great pains not to be seen by the buffalo. In fact, they paid so much attention to this that they did not note how near they were to the bluff, till they almost ran upon the very men they had seen moving there.
Then there was a shock and a surprise, for they found themselves face to face with a dozen Blackfeet Indians!
"Howly shmoke!" gurgled Barney, as he came to a sudden halt.
"Jupiter!" muttered Frank, also stopping quickly.
The Indians stared at them, and grunted:
"How, how! Ugh!"
One of them, a villainous-looking half-blood, spoke up:
"What white boys do? shoot buffalo?"
"No," answered Frank, promptly, "we are not here to shoot them, but we want to get a picture of them."
"Pic'ter? Hugah! No good!"
The half-blood was doubtful; he believed they had intended to shoot the buffalo, and his eyes glittered with greed as he noted the handsome rifles carried by the lads.
"Lemme looker gun," he said, stepping toward Frank, and holding out a hand, nearly one-half of which had been torn away by some accident.
Now Frank knew there would not be one chance in a thousand of getting back his rifle if he let the fellow have it, and so he decisively said:
"No, I will not let you look at it. Keep off! The soldiers will have you for killing game in this park if you do not make tracks back to your reservation."
"Ha! Soldiers fools! Half Hand not afraid of soldier. He watch up. They be way off there to north, ten, twenty, thirty mile. No soldiers round—nobody round. White boy lemme looker gun."
Again he advanced, his manner aggressive, and the boys realized they were in a decidedly perilous situation.
CHAPTER XXV.
FAY.
"Th' spalpane manes ter kape it av he gits his hand on it," whispered Barney. "It's murther he has in his oies."
Frank knew well enough that Barney was right, and he had no intention of relinquishing his hold on his rifle for a moment. He fell back a step, lifting the weapon in a suggestive manner, and Half Hand halted, scowling blackly and smiling craftily by turns.
"Hold up!" came sharply from the lips of the boy. "Keep your distance, or you will get damaged."
"Ha! White boy threaten Half Hand! Be careful! Half Hand good when him not threatened; heap bad when him threatened. White boys two; Injuns big lot more. White boys make Injuns mad, then where um be?"
"I have no desire to make you mad, but this is my rifle, and I mean to keep it."
"Half Hand want to look."
"You may look at a distance, but you can't lay a hand on it."
"White boy heap 'fraid. Give gun back pretty quick bimeby."
"I fancy it would be bimeby. No, you cannot take it, and that settles it."
"Mebbe Half Hand trade with boy."
"I do not wish to trade."
"Mebbe Half Hand give um heap good trade."
"Possibly, but that makes no difference."
"White boy fool!" snarled the half-blood. "If um don't lemme take gun, Half Hand take it anyhow, and then white boy no git a thing for it."
This was quite enough to startle Frank, and he sharply declared:
"If you attempt to take this rifle, you will get a pill out of it in advance! That is straight business, Mr. Half Hand."
"Hurro!" cried Barney, his fighting blood beginning to rise. "Av it's foight ye want, ye red nagurs, jist wade roight inter us! We'll give ye all th' foight ye want, begobs!"
The Blackfeet jabbered among themselves a minute, and it was plain that they were not all of one mind. Some seemed to be for attacking the boys, while others opposed it. Half Hand hotly urged them on.
"Fall back," said Frank, speaking softly to the Irish lad. "Be ready for a rush. If they come, give it to them. I will take Half Hand myself. You take the fellow with the red feather. If they kill us, we'll have the satisfaction of getting two or three of them in advance."
The boy's voice was cool and steady, and his nerves seemed of iron. He glanced over his shoulder in search of some place of shelter, but could discover none near by, much to his disappointment.
Barney was also cool enough, although the hot blood was rushing swiftly through his veins. He was holding himself in check, in imitation of his friend and comrade.
In truth, the two lads were in a tight corner. It was plain that the Indian poachers were made up of rebellious Blackfeet, who could not be kept on the reservation, and their faces showed they were the very worst sort. Having been caught almost in the act of killing game within the park, and believing the two lads had no friends near by, the dusky villains might not hesitate at outright murder spurred on by their greed for plunder, lust for blood, and a desire to keep the boys from notifying the soldiers of the presence of Indians on forbidden ground.
Frank fully understood their peril, and he felt that they would be lucky indeed if they escaped with their lives.
He blamed himself for running into the trap in such a blind manner, and still he felt that he was not to blame. He had seen moving figures at a distance, and, as the Indians were keeping under cover, in order to creep upon the buffalo, he had no more than caught a glimpse