BUFFALO HUNTING. 205 
and alarmed lest his aged rival should complete the 
work he so bunglingly began, unguardedly presses too 
near the bull, who, smarting with his wound, turns upon 
his heels, and, with one mad plunge, tears out the bow- 
els of the steed, and rolls him and rider on the turf. 
He next rushes at the rider. 
The Indian, wary as the panther, springs aside, and 
the bull falls headlong on the ground. Ere the bull re- 
covers himself, the bow is again bent, the flint-headed 
arrow strikes the hard rib, splits it asunder, and enters 
the heart. 
The old warrior has looked on with glazed eye and 
expressionless face, and the young man feels that he has 
added no laurels to his brow, for an arrow has been 
spent in vain and his steed killed under him. 
There goes a “brave” with a bow by his side, and 
his right hand unoccupied. He presses his horse against 
the very sides of the animal which he is pursuing. Now 
he leans forward until he seems hidden between the but- 
-falo and his horse. He rises; a gory arrow is in his 
hand; he has plucked it from a “ flesh wound” at full 
speed, and while in luck, has with better aim brought 
his victim to the earth. 
The sun is now fairly in its zenith: the buffalos that 
have escaped are hurrying away, with a speed that will 
soon carry them miles beyond the hunter’s pursuit. 
The Indians are coming in from the field. The 
horses breathe hard and are covered with foam. The 
