68 WILD CATTLE. 



the bull's head, when he stripped my fringed hunting- 

 shirt from my back, had shaken and bruised me, and 

 it was some little time before I was ready to think 

 of means to extricate myself from mv awkward 

 position — the prisoner of a wounded bull. 



My hunting-knife still remained in its sheath — 

 the shock of jny fall had not made me lose it — and 

 I determined to try and stab my enemy ; but before 

 I could put this in practice the bull began to reel. 

 His wounds were beginning to tell. Most likely he 

 had been internally bleeding, and in two or three 

 minutes, with a low moan, he fell to the ground and 

 died. 



The vagueros, or stock-raisers, in the South are 

 always glad to have these mid cattle destroyed, and 

 I shall here recall an occasion in which I accompanied 

 one of these men with his herders, on a ^roping' 

 or lassoing expedition. At the time of which I speak 

 1 lived on the Gulf prairie, in a sheltered nook 

 formed by a bend of the forest, in which secure 

 retreat, surrounded by forest and prairie game, with 

 plenty of wild fowl in the winter, I passed two happy 

 years of a hunter's life, my rifle and shot-gun sup- 

 porting myself and dogs, whilst my horses grazed 

 free of expense on the prairie around my cabin. 



Sittincr one eveninor under a laro^e live oak which 

 shaded my log-shanty from the Southern mid- day 

 sun, and smoking my pipe whilst I occasionally turned 



