DEATH OF A BUFFALO-BULL. 79 



a run, when he promptly offered me his own for the 

 occasion. He was a powerful sixteen-hand nag, 

 nearly thoroughbred, and in good condition. My 

 saddle was soon transferred to his back, the girths 

 were tightened, and I mounted. 



Taking him well in hand I shook him into a 

 gallop, but found, as might have been expected, that 

 his mouth had been completely ruined by the con- 

 stant use of the villainous Mexican bit, so much in 

 vogue throughout the United States. However, the 

 beast could go, and with satisfaction I found I was 

 overhauling my game. A few minutes more and I 

 ranged alongside, very much to the disgust and fear 

 of my horse, who refused obstinately to take up such 

 a position as I desired. 



Wishing to do my work well, for I knew the 

 eyes of all were upon me, and my reputation as a 

 hunter would be damaged by a bungling performance, 

 I delayed firing. However, a chance offering, I pressed 

 the trigger, and my bullet entered low down and 

 well back. The bull immediately charged, the horse 

 cleverly avoiding his onset. Then the poor stricken 

 creature slackened its pace into a walk, and ulti- 

 mately halted, glaring at me from its little 'eyes 

 smothered in hair, while glouts of blood soiled its lips 

 and chin. Gradually its fore-legs straddled further 

 and further apart to support its towering frame, then 

 it swayed first to one side then to the other, making 

 an unsuccessful effort to retain its footing, and, after 

 a struggle, the monarch of the prairies was dead ! 



