The Last of the Plainsmen 



fellow said he was a big hunter, and wanted to kill 

 a buffalo, so I took him out. I saw a herd making 

 over the prairie for a hollow where a brook ran, 

 and by hard work, got in ahead of them. I picked 

 out a position just below the edge of the bank, and 

 we lay quiet, waiting. From the direction of the 

 buffalo, I calculated we d be just about right to get 

 a shot at no very long range. As it was, I suddenly 

 heard thumps on the ground, and cautiously raising 

 my head, saw a huge buffalo bull just over us, not 

 fifteen feet up the bank. I whispered to Williams: 

 4 For God s sake, don t shoot, don t move ! The 

 bull s little fiery eyes snapped, and he reared. I 

 thought we were goners, for when a bull comes down 

 on anything with his forefeet, it s done for. But he 

 slowly settled back, perhaps doubtful. Then, as 

 another buffalo came to the edge of the bank, luckily 

 a little way from us, the bull turned broadside, pre 

 senting a splendid target. Then I whispered to 

 Williams: Now s your chance. Shoot! ? I waited 

 for the shot, but none came. Looking at Williams, I 

 saw he was white and trembling. Big drops of sweat 

 stood out on his brow; his teeth chattered, and his 

 hands shook. He had forgotten he carried a rifle.&quot; 

 &quot; That reminds me,&quot; said Frank. &quot; They tell a 

 story over at Kanab on a Dutchman named Schmitt. 

 He was very fond of huntin , an I guess had pretty 



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