CHAPTER LXXI. 



A BRUSH WITH A BISON. 



loiiowing t ;rilling narrative of a buffalo hunt, is by John Millsj 

 Esq. We were now on the verge of the upper prairies, no longer ena- 

 meled with flowers and flowering plants, but covered with a short, 

 coarse, herbage called " buffalo grass," on which the buffalo loves to 

 feed. These hunting grounds are far easier to ride over, from being 

 free from vines and entangling shrubs which interlace each other in 

 impenetrable masses, although the yawning clefts, made by the water 

 courses, the wallows formed by the buffaloes making baths for them- 

 selves by ripping the earth open with their heads in soft, oozy spots, 

 and the burrowing of that sharp and watchful little animal the prairie 

 dog, cause both horse and horseman to run considerable risk when 

 taking a spin over the flat. Hill and dale, bluff and level, the land- 

 scape broken upon the eye in one of those infinite and fruitful waters, 

 strikes the mind with awe at its grand and boundless scale. 



The serious object of the expedition was now on the eve of being 

 realized, and the land of promise being gained, every preparation 

 had been made the succeeding morning for a regular buffalo hunt 

 In addition to my rifle and pistols, I carried a long lance with the 

 shaft made of the toughest ash. This weapon I luund rather un- 

 wieldy and awkward, and saw how different it looked in the hands 

 of my companions; but Hawkoye insisted that it was indispensable, 

 as I could not attempt the use of bow and arrow. 



Stripped of all superfluous garments, and fully equipped for the ex- 

 pedition, my companions mounted their horses, with their lassoes 

 uncoiled and trailing upon the ground, as invariably is the rule in 

 (440) 



