A Buffalo Hunt
"Them's buffalo without a shadow o' doubt," said Steve, one afternoon,
six weeks after the little party had set out on their long journey to
California. "Ef yer shade yer eyes and look close yer can see a dark
line that ain't never still. Them's buffalo."
The little hunter spoke with an assurance born of long experience, and
sat his horse with one hand above his eyes, and the brim of his hat
pulled low. Jack followed suit; but though he could distinguish the dark
line away on the plain, he could make nothing more of it.
"There is a line, right enough, Steve," he admitted, "and as you say
it's buffalo I'm bound to believe you; but I can't see a single animal."
"No more yer would ef yer was to stare for half a day," came the answer,
"'cos they're packed as tight as herrings in a barrel. But the cloud
above the line tells a hunter the right tale. That aer dust, and them
beasts is moving pretty rapid. How'd yer like ter try a shot at 'em?"
Jack was all eagerness at once, for he had been practising diligently
with his weapons during the days which had passed, and wished now to
show of what he was capable. Indeed, the injury to his shoulder had in
a measure been for his good; for in place of mounting a rough horse
immediately on joining the party, and thereby risking perhaps a heavy
fall, he had been obliged to take a mount which was known to be quiet
and well trained. And from the back of this animal he had been able to
use his weapons without fear of a sudden movement which would have
unseated him.
"I'd much rather have taken my chances like any other newcomer," he had
said to Tom one day, as they jogged along; "but I'm bound to admit that
this steady practice in the saddle, and using my rifle and revolver,
have done much for me."
"Yer bet," was the answer. "Thar's a sight of green 'uns comes out this
way, and thinks they're goin' to show the boys right off how to ride.
Wall, that leads to falls in general, sometimes to broken necks. Thar
are some, I 'low, as comes through fine, and shows heaps of grit. But
others weakens, while not a few gets broken up, legs or arms smashed, or
somethin' of that sort. From what I knows of yer, young 'un, it's
natural yer'd ha' liked to show yer grit like those others. But that
shoulder aren't to be played with. Yer've got ter take it easy, and take
care not to risk a fall. But yer've got one big advantage."
"And what is that?" asked Jack, wondering.
"I'll tell yer. Most every man larns to shoot when on his legs. There
ain't nothin' to prevent yer doin' the same. But with that quiet horse
yer kin set to with the guns on the trace, and there ain't nothin' like
the man as can shoot as quick and as straight when on a movin' horse.
'Sides, you can practise both hands. 'Twon't hurt the shoulder."
And so, thanks to constant practice, Jack was now by no means a duffer
with rifle and revolver, while he could shoot with the latter equally
well with either hand.
"Them buffalo are making east," said Steve, as he watched the distant
line, "and sense the wind's from that quarter thar ain't nothin' to
prevent us comin' up behind 'em. Mind yer, none but a downright fool
would ever attempt to head 'em, 'cos thar ain't no stoppin' buffalo on
the move. Ef you was to build a wall in front of 'em, they'd push it
over. Thar's thousands as a rule in the herds, and them as is in the
back lines don't know what's happenin' away in front. And so they goes
on pushin' and shovin', and squeezin' the ones up in the front, till
they're bound ter move forward. Hundreds and hundreds of the beasts have
been known ter go head over ears over a cliff before their mates behind
got to reckon what was happenin'. Guess we'll cut dead across. That'll
bring us near level with the last of the herd, and then it'll be a poor
day ef we don't manage to cut one of 'em out."
Slinging his rifle at Steve's bidding, Jack shook up his horse, a more
spirited one now than the animal he had at first ridden, and cantered
along beside the huntsman.
"A gun aer no use fer this job," sang out Steve. "Thar ain't no fetchin'
a buffalo down unless he's hit heavy, and to do that yer've got ter ride
in close. The Injuns kill 'em with arrows, and I've seen their hunters
ride up behind a herd and stand on the back of the beast they've chosen.
Then, with an arrow drawn to the head, the chances are it'll go clean
through the buffalo's heart. A shooter are the weapon for 'em, and when
yer fire, aim just behind the shoulder."
A sharp canter took them rapidly closer to the herd, and very soon the
dark line resolved itself into a mass of moving beasts, over whom hung a
cloud of yellow dust. Steve turned his horse a little, and cantered on
till the tail of the herd was passing.
"Now's the time," he sang out. "Keep along beside me till we're well
behind 'em. Then ride forward till ye're almost in the crowd. That'll
allow yer to select a beast and shoot him. Don't fire at more than one.
Guess two beasts altogether will keep us in food fer a month. And jest
one more warnin'. Keep clear of their horns. They're the ugliest things
fer diggin' I ever hit across."
Gripping his reins firmly in his left hand, Jack followed Steve until
they were right behind the centre of the herd. The beasts seemed to have
scented their enemies; for the pace of those behind increased of a
sudden, while those in front, pressed on in spite of themselves, soon
broke into a fast gallop, which taxed the fleetness of the horses.
Watching the mass of struggling beasts, our hero soon picked out a huge
animal, floundering along in rear, and when Steve shouted, he turned his
horse and rode him up beside the buffalo he had selected. And it seemed
at once as if the beast realized his intentions, for it increased its
pace, and, shouldering its way amongst its fellows, soon placed a couple
of rows of buffalo between it and Jack.
"I've chosen him, and I'm going to bag him, whatever happens," thought
our hero, as he raced along. "I'll follow in after the beast."
Pressing his horse with both knees, and urging him forward with voice
and spur, he managed to wedge himself in the last line of moving
buffalo. Another effort and he passed right through it, and was almost
within shot of the animal he wanted. Then he heard a sharp report on his
right, followed by a shout, and, turning, saw Steve riding hard towards
him.
"Yer've got to be careful in thar," shouted the hunter. "Mind their
horns, and jest see that when he falls the others don't come tumbling on
ter yer. Now, let him have it."
Steve was within a few feet of Jack now, for the hunter felt anxious for
the safety of his young friend.
"I never seed a new 'un with more grit," he was saying to himself. "The
most of 'em would be content to ride up behind, and fire from a little
distance. But Carrots ain't like that. I've noticed he's a way of doin'
a thing proper or not at all. He's bound on making a point-blank shot."
That, in fact, was Jack's intention, and, careless of the tossing heads
about him, of the horns turning this way and that, and of the angry
bellows, he pressed his horse still more forward, till he was right up
against the beast he had selected. And there, jammed in the press, and
going hard all the while, our hero stood up in his stirrups, watched for
the right moment, and fired his weapon, aiming just behind the moving
shoulder.
"Pull out!" shouted Steve, "Pull out or they'll carry yer along."
To retire from the position he had taken up was not an easy task, as
Jack soon found; for behind him a solid wall of buffalo swung along,
while the animal he had fired at still galloped forward as if it had
received no wound. It seemed, indeed, as if our hero had failed. But he
was not the lad to give in easily. Food was wanted for the camp, and
this was the very first opportunity he had had of showing his prowess.
Once more he spurred up beside the beast and sent a second bullet
crashing into his body. And then there was a sudden change in the
situation. The buffalo dropped like a log, while the animal immediately
behind tripped, fell on his nose, and in doing so knocked the legs of
Jack's mount from under him. In an instant there was a scene of dire
confusion. Jack went flying far ahead, over the ears of his horse, while
Steve, who was riding just behind him by then, came a terrible cropper.
Clouds of dust were thrown into the air, and dimly seen through it were
struggling beasts, feet lashing here and there, and frightened eyes.
Never had Jack heard such a bellowing. It seemed as if all the buffalo
in that country were round him, and then, as suddenly, they were gone.
The beasts who had fallen got to their feet and charged madly by him,
leaving him alone with the one he had shot, stretched just a foot away
from it, while farther behind was his horse, looking at him, as if the
poor beast still wondered what had happened. As for Steve, he lay very
still, one boot remaining in his stirrup, while his well-trained beast
stood close beside him, grazing, as if buffalo had never existed, and as
if such a thing as a catastrophe had never occurred.
Jack clambered to his feet and ran to Steve, to find him conscious, and
lying with eyes wide open.
"Jest lift my foot out of the stirrup," he said cheerfully, but in a
voice little above a whisper. "We was goin' fast, I guess? and I wasn't
lookin' for a fall. Reckon my back's badly shook, 'cos I ain't got no
power over my legs. Pain? No. I ain't any, but it's queer fer me to be
lying here unable ter move."
Jack gently disengaged his foot from the stirrup, and made his friend
comfortable. Then he turned to look about him, and at once an
exclamation escaped him.
"Look!" he cried. "They're returning. Something seems to have caused the
herd to swing round, and they're chargin' back this way."
A flush came to the hunter's face as he heard the news, and with an
obvious effort he managed to turn his head. Then he called to Jack, and
spoke quietly.
"Yer'd best be going," he said earnestly. "That mob's less than half a
mile away, and ef they're coming along as they was a few minutes ago,
they'll be here afore yer can look round. Ef they find yer still on this
spot yer best friend won't know yer when they're gone. Best git, slippy.
So long!"
"And you?" asked Jack, casting another glance towards the herd, which,
for some unexplained reason had undoubtedly turned, and was charging
back over the ground it had so recently covered. "And what about you,
Steve?" he asked. "Would your best friend be able to recognize you any
better than mine would be?"
"Shucks! Ye're talkin', and wastin' valuable time," growled Steve. "Yer
kin see it's a case with me. I'm done fer, and I don't mind if no one
can recognize me. Ye git, and precious slippy. Yer ain't got too much
time ter clear even now."
"And desert you, the man who has been so friendly to me," said Jack.
"Never! I'll do my best to carry him off. Can you hold anything, Steve?"
he asked, kneeling beside the helpless hunter.
"Yer bet. Give us yer hand. Thar. So long!"
Steve gripped Jack's hand firmly, and then thrust him away. "Didn't I
tell yer to be goin'?" he cried angrily. "The chances aer ye'll not do
it even now. Them beasts is coming quicker'n yer kin gallop. Aer yer a
fool?"
"Get a hold round my neck," cried Jack, bending lower over him.
"Quickly! You're only wasting my time and yours by hesitating. There!
Grip hard. I'm going to get into my saddle."
"Yer ain't! Git as quick as yer kin, and leave me to it. Ain't I warned
yer? Jest quit foolin'?"
Steve blazed out at Jack as the latter again bent over him, and with an
emphatic shake of his head refused to do as our hero suggested. For the
little scout knew what he was talking about. Already it was doubtful
whether either of them could escape that rushing herd, even if well
mounted. But if he in his unselfishness was determined not to ruin
Jack's chances of escape, the latter was equally determined not to leave
Steve to be trampled into the dust by the charging buffalo. He could
never face his other friends if he returned with such a tale of
cowardice, and in spite of Steve's obstinacy he made up his mind there
and then that he would save him, or stand and face the beasts by his
side.
"Quit foolin' and git off!" shouted Steve again. "Yer ain't got a moment
to lose."
"And you won't take a grip of my neck and let me lift you?" asked Jack.
"I won't. I ain't goin' ter spoil the chances of one fer the sake of
savin' myself. Git, and have done with the talkin'."
"Then you've yourself to thank. I'll do as I know to be proper."
Jack stooped once more over the little hunter, and with one big heave
threw him over his shoulder. Then he hurried with him to his horse,
placed the injured man in front of the saddle, and with a bound was up
behind him. Leaving Steve's mount to follow as it liked, he dug his
spurs into his own beast and sent it galloping forward. Then began a
desperate race, for already the herd was within a hundred yards,
sweeping along over the plain in one dense mass, which stretched for a
quarter of a mile on either side. Indeed, it might have been more; for
in those days, before railways had come, and the march of civilization
had driven the animals away, herds of twenty and more thousand buffalo
were often to be encountered. Whatever its proportions, this particular
herd came thundering along, a dense mass of dust flying in the air above
it, while the earth beneath trembled with the thud of so many hoofs. It
was as much as a horse could do to keep in front of the maddened
animals, and very soon Jack found his own mount flagging.
"We're bound to go down before them if I can't find my way to one side,"
he thought. "Let me see how much ahead of them I am."
Gripping Steve firmly, so that he could not be shaken off, and digging
his knees into his mount, Jack swung his head round and looked behind
him. There was a sea of tossing manes, of flashing eyes and terrible
horns, within twenty yards, and the thunder the animals made would have
drowned the ordinary voice. And on either side the line stretched till
it seemed to be interminable. Then Jack looked ahead, and, seeing some
trees growing on a rising knoll away on the right, he swung his horse in
that direction, and applied his spurs again, calling upon the noble
animal to make one last effort. As for Steve, our hero could feel him
wriggling, and even heard his voice as he endeavoured to expostulate
with his saviour. But the words came jerkily. The movement of the horse
shook the breath out of the little hunter's body.
"We'll do it! Stick to the game!" shouted Jack, stretching out one hand
to pat his horse's neck. "Now, a little more, and we shall be there."
But safety was not yet accomplished, and for some minutes it seemed as
if both he and Steve must go down before the mob and be trampled to
death, when of a sudden there was another movement amongst the herd.
Imperceptibly at first, and then with a swing, the leaders faced away
from the rising knoll for which Jack had been aiming, and, pressing
their fellows on the left farther to that side, galloped off on a line
at a tangent to that which had previously been followed. This unforeseen
movement at once gave the fugitives an advantage, for those beasts
directly behind them and farther to the right were placed even farther
behind.
"Forward!" shouted Jack, applying his spurs again. "We've just a chance
still."
But it proved, before the matter was ended, to be a close escape for
both of them, for before the right-hand margin of the herd was reached
many of the animals were thundering along immediately in rear, while on
the very outskirts of the crowd some of the buffalo had actually passed
ahead of Jack. He watched his opportunity and then suddenly swung his
horse well to one side, pulling him in a minute later amongst the trees
for which he had been aiming. And there, as he dismounted and lifted
Steve to the ground, he watched as the whole herd rushed past him,
watched for five minutes as the thunder of their hoofs drummed on his
ear. Then he sat down to rest and wipe his forehead.
"That aer the nearest thing yer'll ever have, nor me either," said Steve
suddenly, when the noise had died down. "Jack, jest pull in that critter
and place him well behind the bushes. There ain't a chance of our bein'
seen, for ye've chose a proper little hollow, and no one could easily
see us from outside on the plain. Gee! That war a near thing, and I
ain't so sure that there ain't more to follow."
Despite his helplessness the little scout managed to prop himself up
against a tree, and lay there staring out into the plain, while Jack
followed out his instructions. Taking the horse, he led him amidst the
trees to a spot where a dense mass of bushes grew, and left him there to
blow and regain his wind. As for Steve's mount, he had fled for those
trees at the very first, and, being unencumbered by a rider, had reached
them well in advance. Jack slipped his reins over the fork of a tree and
returned to Steve.
"I war sayin' we was mighty lucky," exclaimed the scout, "and I war
advisin' yer to keep well down and hide the horses. Do yer know the
reason?"
Jack shook his head. He was beginning to wonder if the fall had in some
manner upset Steve's reason as well as damaging his back.
"Wall, I'll tell yer. What sent them varmints back on their trail so
onexpectedly?" he asked. "Yer don't know, and can't guess. But I had a
notion from the very fust, and I reckoned that ef we got clear of the
herd we'd have somethin' else to face. It was Injuns, Jack. Buffalo
don't face about fer nothin'. I've seen twenty and more hunters trying
to turn a pack of 'em smaller than this here by a heap. They've fired
their revolvers into the face of the herd, and shouted, and rid across.
But it ain't done nothin'. The beasts has come along solid all the same.
But when thar's a hundred painted Injun varmints a-shriekin' in front
and shootin' their arrows, why, even buffalo'll turn then."
"But----" exclaimed Jack, his eyes wide open with amazement.
"Yer didn't see any of 'em," cried Steve. "No more yer did, nor me
neither at first. The dust covered everything. But jest you look thar."
He pointed after the herd, and, following that direction, Jack's eyes
fell upon a number of horsemen who must have swept by the spot where he
and Steve lay, directly in wake of the buffalo.
"Indians!" he cried in amazement.
"Them's the red-skinned varmints, and a fine time they'll give us ef we
drop into their hands. Aer yer sure ye've hid up them hosses?"
"Certain. I couldn't make out what you meant by giving such directions,
and began to wonder whether you were all right in your head. But I hid
the horses right enough. No one would see them from outside."
"Then we're right fer the moment," said Steve, "but it'll be only fer
the moment. Them varmint'll see the beasts we killed, and'll know in a
minute as white men ha' done it, 'cos they're shot with bullets. That'll
tell 'em we were behind the herd before it turned. They'll be proper
bothered after that, 'cos there ain't a trace left now to follow. Every
mark has been stamped out of the ground. But that won't beat 'em.
They'll send out parties to ride round till they strike our tracks, and
a glance'll tell 'em whether we were goin' or comin'. Wall, they'll see,
in course, that we ain't rid away. Then they'll set to ter find us. And
as far as I can see thar ain't another likely spot, barrin' these
trees."
The outlook did indeed appear to be anything but rosy; for, as Jack
kneeled amidst the trees beside his injured friend and looked out into
the plain, he could distinguish fully fifty Indians, all mounted, and
slowly returning from following the buffalo. Had he but known the men
were part of a tribe which had camped three miles away in a hollow which
hid them completely, and, having ridden from a direction the opposite of
that from which Jack and his friends were making, neither party had seen
the other. It was the maddened herd of buffalo which had first disturbed
the Indians, and, finding it probable that they would charge right
across their own camping-ground, they had turned out in force, and by
dint of much shouting had contrived to stem the rush, and in the end to
cause the whole herd to face about. And up to now they were still
ignorant of the presence of white people. A minute later, however,
there was a shout out on the plain, and a batch of the Indians galloped
across to the buffalo which Jack had shot.
"In course they seed it. I knew they would," growled Steve. "It ain't
likely that an Injun could miss a beast like that. And ain't they jest
talkin'! Guess they'll know in less than a minute that they ain't the
only people hereabouts, and that thar's scalps within distance that's
worth the taking."
At any other time Jack could have watched with interest as the Indians
gathered round the fallen buffalo and inspected the carcass. For their
movements were picturesque, to say the least of it. But he had heard
enough already to prove to him that these bands still roving the plains
were just as implacable enemies of the white men as their fathers had
ever been, while he knew it to be a fact that scores of unhappy people
making across the plains for California had been ruthlessly slaughtered
by the red man. If he had any doubt of the Indians he was watching it
was dispelled in an instant. A fierce shout suddenly broke the silence.
"Didn't I say so?" cried Steve, a grim look on his face. "Them varmint
aer hit upon the truth, and they know well that white men has been after
them buffalo within this last hour. Thar they go in two parties, while
that chap ridin' away by hisself is goin' to the camp to bring along the
others. Seems to me we shall have the hull crowd of 'em about us afore
many minutes. Lad, seems almost a pity you troubled to bring me out."
The little scout smiled at Jack, and held out a hand.
"Yer ain't no tenderfoot," he said huskily. "I've been round about the
plains boy and man, and I've seen a sight of gallant actions, but they
was mostly the work of experienced men, not of young chaps new from the
towns. Jack, I've marked it up fer yer. Ef we squeeze out of this,
t'others shall know, and Steve won't forget what he's owing. Now, lad,
jest roll me over and pull off my shirt. Thar's a bit of beef in my
saddle bag, and ef yer cut a hunk of fat from it it'll do to rub into
the back. Seems the spine's a bit shook up, and is already better. Gee,
ef I can't move a toe now!"
He smiled grimly as he pointed to one boot, and showed our hero that he
could move it. Then he lay back against the tree and watched the enemy
eagerly. As for Jack, he rubbed Steve's back vigorously till the scout
declared that he was better. Then, seizing his gun, he lay down to
watch, wondering how long it would take the Indians to find them, and
whether, in that event, he and Steve could hope to escape.
Nor was it long before his mind was filled with misgiving. As the shades
of evening drew in, a party of Indians came to a halt a mile from their
hiding place, and pointed eagerly in their direction.
"Didn't I say so," growled Steve, kneeling up, for his strength was fast
returning. "Them varmints are hit on our trail, and'll be along in half
a jiffy. Jack, thar ain't no use denyin' it, you and me ain't got half a
show. Them critters is bound to take us."
Let the reader place himself for one brief moment in the position in
which our hero so suddenly and unexpectedly found himself. There he was,
young, full of life and vigour, with his outlook upon the world rendered
wonderfully more attractive by the friendship and companionship of Steve
and his brother scouts, face to face with a danger which the experienced
Indian fighter beside him assured him was great--so great that death
must almost inevitably follow. The announcement was enough to blanch the
cheek of a man, let alone a young fellow of his age. It was enough to
unnerve the boldest. Yet Jack did not quake, though, to speak the truth,
his heart set to work hammering at his ribs as it never seemed to have
done before. He even feared that that rat-a-tat-tat in his ears, the
thud of his heart drumming so loudly within his breast, would be heard
by the enemy, would reach the Indians and hasten the end at which Steve
so bluntly hinted.
"Bound to take us," he repeated, whispering the words.
"Ay, bound to. That is, as fer as I can see. I've been in many a ruction
with the critters, and I don't say as I ain't never been as badly up
agin it as I am now. But, yer see, sarcumstances is that bad. It ain't
as if this here wood was a big one, and we could slip away through the
trees, giving them varmint their work to follow. It ain't big. It's
small, and, 'sides, thar's these legs of mine. Gee! I've never felt the
same before. It ain't often Steve ain't able to get about and lift his
shooter. It seems queer too. Here's me, used all my life to carryin' a
gun, and findin' as it's saved my life many a time. Wall, here I am, and
I guess an Injun kid could come right in and scalp me. It aer enough to
make a man swear."
"I will protect you. You have forgotten that I am here."
Suddenly, it seemed to Jack, the thumping of his heart stopped. A moment
or two before the drumming in his ears had been annoying, to say the
least of it. But now the trouble was gone. He looked steadily at Steve,
gripped his rifle, and then turned his attention to the enemy.
"My!" Steve gave vent to the exclamation gently. In the excitement of
the moment, with his eyes fixed on the deadly Indian enemy out on the
plain, Jack's recent heroism had escaped his memory. He forgot for the
moment that the lad had shown unusual grit, and looked upon him as a
city lad, brave perhaps, but as helpless as he himself in such a
dilemma. Then he suddenly stole a sideways look at Jack, to find the lad
watching the enemy coolly, critically, noting every movement. His face
was sunburned and held a healthy colour. There was no trace of
nervousness about him, and, to Steve's wonder, there was an entire
absence of excitement. Jack was cool, and wore a determined appearance,
a set of his chin which was strange to him and to Steve.
"My!" exclaimed the hunter again. "Ef I don't believe as ye're ready to
tackle all them varmint single-handed. Wall, it do do an old hunter like
me good ter see sech grit. I've knowed green 'uns face fire for the fust
time and seem ter like it. I've knowed old hands get that fidgety when
the bullets got whistling that they wasn't able to set or to stand
still. And agin I've seed old 'uns and new 'uns get a sudden fit of
funks, and then their chances ain't worth buyin'. Reckon, Jack, yer
ain't the one to go under without a struggle. Ef them critters want to
give yer knocks, you aer goin' ter return 'em."
The idea tickled the humour of the little hunter, and in spite of the
dangerous proximity of the Indians, in spite of the death which was so
perilously near, he grinned, and once more gave expression to his
amazement. "My!" he whispered. "Ef that don't take it!"
"H-h-h-ush! They're moving. What are they going to do?"
Jack held out a hand and touched Steve, drawing his attention to the
enemy. And then, for five minutes, the two lay as still as mice. Right
before their eyes were the Indians, and during those long minutes Jack
had an opportunity of inspecting them thoroughly, of watching their
behaviour in their natural haunts, for as yet the band of men was
unconscious of his and of Steve's presence. At any other time he would
have been filled with admiration and with wonder, for before him were
men who, in their own particular way, were as fine, even finer, horsemen
than were the hunters. True, time was when a horse was unknown to the
Indian of the plain, when he looked upon it as some fearful beast to be
carefully avoided. But once the animal had been imported to the country
he had been quick to realize its utility. And now he rode, barebacked
for the most part, sitting his mount with that easy swing of the body
which shows a born horseman. It was fine to see the band of redskins
grouped about one another, to watch as the younger men occasionally
galloped from the group, only to bring their mounts to the rightabout
with amazing swiftness. And then their ease of mounting, the swiftness
with which they slipped from the backs of their horses and vaulted again
to their seats was a revelation not to be experienced even on a ranch.
"The critters!" exclaimed Steve. "Ef they could shoot jest as well as
they kin ride, then thar wouldn't always be so much chance fer us. But
this ain't ter be a case of shootin'. It's tracking that's wanted, and
whar that's the case thar ain't no one to touch an Injun varmint I tell
yer, Jack, we're clear up agin it. We ain't got half a show. As I looks
at it, we can't get away from this wood, while them critters can't
manage to miss us. Wall, that means jest one thing. They're jest bound
ter take us."