The Last of the Plainsmen 



reached tried to elude the grasping hand and failed. 

 Kentuck had been trained to wheel to the right or 

 left, in whichever way his rider leaned; and as Jones 

 bent over and caught an upraised tail, the horse 

 turned to strike the calf with both front hoofs. The 

 calf rolled; the horse plunged down; the rider sped 

 beyond to the dust. Though the calf was tired, he 

 still could bellow, and he filled the air with robust 

 bawls. 



Jones all at once saw twenty or more buffalo dash 

 in at him with fast, twinkling, short legs. With the 

 thought of it, he was in the air to the saddle. As the 

 black, round mounds charged from every direction, 

 Kentuck let out with all there was left in him. He 

 leaped and whirled, pitched and swerved, in a roar 

 ing, clashing, dusty melee. Beating hoofs threw the 

 turf, flying tails whipped the air, and everywhere 

 were dusky, sharp-pointed heads, tossing low. Ken- 

 tuck squeezed out unscathed. The mob of bison, 

 bristling, turned to lumber after the main herd. 

 Jones seized his opportunity and rode after them, 

 yelling with all his might. He drove them so hard 

 that soon the little fellows lagged paces behind. Only 

 one or two old cows straggled with the calves. 



Then wheeling Kentuck, he cut between the herd 

 and a calf, and rode it down. Bewildered, the 



tously little bull bellowed in great affright. The 



72 



