AFTER BIG-GAME IN WYOMING 195 



me, on scenting buffalo or elk, being as keen as his 

 rider to get near the game. 



What usually happened on these occasions was that, 

 after a good gallop of one or two miles, I would get 

 within 20 yards or so of the buffalo, generally on an 

 uphill grade ; and the then indignant bull would raise 

 his ridiculous little tufted apology for a tail, turn 

 round, and, if approached too close, endeavour a 

 charge an attack which never succeeded while the 

 horse kept his legs, which mine, I am glad to say, 

 always did. After a good look at, and some amuse- 

 ment with, our buffalo, we usually left him unmolested. 

 There was always, to my mind, something humorous, 

 and also slightly pathetic, in the contrast between an 

 old bull buffalo's ferocious, shaggy-fronted appear- 

 ance and the impotence of his attack upon a man 

 on horseback. I once succeeded this was on another 

 hunting- trip in company with a western hunter, 

 in driving a bull buffalo some miles towards camp. 

 He had been slightly wounded by one of our party, 

 and by riding a little way behind and on either flank 

 we moved him at a trot for several miles in the 

 desired direction, in order as my companion re- 

 marked to please the boys in camp. But the bull 

 finally tired of the process, and turned to bay in 

 a steep gully, out of which nothing would dislodge 

 him. From the top of the steep bank above him 

 I might have sprung on his back, and could touch 

 him with the muzzle of my rifle. Having duly 

 admired his massive proportions and noted the savage 

 way he drove his horns into the bank, we left him 

 in peace, and I have no doubt he eventually recovered 

 both his health and his temper. 



The one occasion on which I failed to catch 



132 



