A Buffalo Hunt in Northern Mexico. 



123 



OUR FIRST 



THE HERO. 



flying fur. He alone kept his place motionless and with full front 

 toward us, the perfect picture of confidence, self-collection, and power 

 of toughened thews in wakeful repose. In every flock of living things 

 there is a sentinel who watches, a philosopher who thinks, a law- 

 maker who ordains, a king who governs ; and there they were all in 

 one — and more, he was the victor of the morning's duel. I knew it 

 all with the certainty of intuition. 



The exceeding peacefulness of the scene was not lost on me, and 

 the monitor of the low voice did some whispering ; but — my blood 

 was running races. The heart was beating in my throat, and the hot 

 parch of the hunter's fever was on my tongue. Pity there is no 

 gauge for the measurement of a man's excitement of spirit ; some- 

 thing of the kind should be our next great gift from the wiseacres ; 

 and then, if the invention should happily be simple of reference and 

 easy of portage like a pencil or a knife, we could have with us always 

 a doctor to save us from apoplexies, and a guardian to say stop at 

 that point in our pleasures where conscience is in the habit of obtrud- 

 ing, like the ghost at the banquet. 



We had no thought of strategy — scattering, flanking, heading 

 off had no places in our heads, and without an inquiry from us the 

 wind continued to blow as it listed. A common impulse seized 

 every man and communicated to every horse. A shout, some fierce 

 gouging with rowels, and away we dashed pell-mell, guns in hand, 



