218 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 



power of man ; the lieavy head plunged awkwardly to 

 the ground ; a tremulous motion passed through the 

 frame — and the wild monarch was dead. 



The momentary seriousness of mj^ own feelings, oc- 

 casioned by the incidents above related, was broken in 

 upon by a loud exulting whoop, prolonged into a quaver- 

 ing sound, such as will sometimes follow a loud blast of 

 a trumpet at the mouth of an expert player. 



It was a joyous whoop, and vibrated through our 

 hearts — we looked up, and saw just before us a young 

 Indian warrior, mounted upon a splendid charger, and 

 rushing across the plain, evidently in pursuit of the re- 

 treating buffalo. 



As he swept by, he threw himself forward in his sad- 

 dle, and placed his right hand over his eyes, as if to 

 shade them from the sun, making a picture of the most 

 graceful and eager interest. 



His horse carried his head low down, running like a 

 rabbit, while the long flowing mane waved in the wind like 

 silk. Horse and rider were almost equally undressed ; 

 both wiry; and every muscle, as it came into action, 

 gave evidence of youth and power. Over the horse's 

 head, and inwrought in the hair of the tail, streamed 

 plumes plucked from the gay flamingo. Every thing 

 was life — moving, dashing life — gay as the sunshine that 

 glistens on the rippling wave where the falcon wets his 

 wing. 



This soul-stirring exhibition warmed us into action, 



