A Buffalo Hunt in Northern Mexico. 



125 



NOW, FIRE ! 



The mustang caught the spur; forward — close — closer — by 

 bending in the saddle I could have laid hand on my prey ; then, 

 fully conscious that she was singled out, how she struggled to get 

 away ! How the muscles of her flanks swelled and knotted in des- 

 perate exertion ! The time came to use my Winchester. I selected 

 the place to shoot at, just behind the shoulder, and brought the 

 rifle down. Goodness ! I was left of the game, when, being right- 

 handed, I should have gone to the right. Three times I tried to get 

 aim, but in vain. I laid the gun across the saddle, and drew my 

 pistol — a Smith & Wesson, the best of revolvers then, yet not near 

 so good as now ; for that I was in place. Forward again, and closer 

 in — closer — now, fire ! The bullet lodged in the shoulder. Again, 

 and in the heart; hurrah! My horse shied; the rifle fell to the 

 ground ; I barely escaped tumbling after ; the victim moaned, stag- 

 gered, stumbled, fell. Aye, count me one ; and, better yet, count me 

 the first ONI ! 



