290 WALL STREET AND THE WILDS 



the nearest when a grand old bull walked toward 

 us and stopping within twenty yards of us began 

 to paw the ground viciously. 



"He thinks we are wolves and you may have to 

 shoot him." 



It wasn't so easy to shoot him. As the brute 

 faced us there was nothing to fire at but the big 

 head or the thin leg. And that head, — with the 

 thick masses of matted hair that hung on the fore- 

 head, the tough hide, and the thick frontal bone! 

 Already I had flattened bullets on those skulls, 

 for the Spencer was not like the rifle of to-day. 

 But my chance came. Slowly the bull turned till 

 his shoulder was opposite me and a bullet behind 

 it brought him to the ground. The buffaloes 

 near us ran a few yards but seeing that their 

 leader had quietly lain down they resumed their 

 grazing. We crawled up to the bull and lay be- 

 side him for two hours, watching the herd as it 

 wandered about us, sometimes a hundred within 

 as many yards. I wished then that I were an 

 artist. I wish now that I could have then bor- 



