THE BISON. 103 



straight at our thicket. I glanced 

 round for a tree, but none was near 

 enough. Manoel thrust the Westley 

 Richards into my hand, and drawing 

 back a pace or two as the bull crashed 

 through the bushes, I fired both bar- 

 rels into him behind the shoulder. He 

 stopped almost at once, and staggered 

 to and fro in the vain effort to keep 

 his feet, and came heavily to the 

 ground, Manoel calmly walking up to 

 him as he tottered, and superintending 

 his last moments. We at once looked 

 to see where the rifle ball had struck, 

 and found it had entered just above 

 the right eye, and passing obliquely 

 through the solid bone of the fore- 

 head, had gone out at the base of 

 the opposite horn ; further examina- 



