196 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



a buffalo, and ran Pinto to a complete standstill 

 in the attempt, was when we were crossing the 

 desert already mentioned. We were travelling with 

 our pack-train, when out of a gully, about 200 yards 

 ahead of us, emerged a solitary old buffalo bull, one 

 of the largest I have ever seen. My horse was fresh, 

 and I promptly gave chase. I wanted to kill that 

 particular bull. By the time I was over the gully 

 the shaggy old monster, having stood for a moment 

 to gaze at the strange intruders, went off at a 

 lumbering gallop, and with a good start, over a long 

 downhill stretch of prairie. A single buffalo can 

 run downhill or on the flat at a pace that will stretch 

 the best cow-pony that ever lived, but uphill his 

 heavy fore -hand soon brings him to bay. It so 

 happened in this case that the prairie stretched down- 

 hill for many miles, and I never got within 100 yards 

 of that bull. I may mention that I never fired a 

 stern shot at a buffalo ; this would have been useless 

 cruelty. For a clean kill it was necessary to have 

 a fair broadside chance and shoot him low behind the 

 shoulder. Some three miles farther on, Pinto, with 

 legs astraddle, heaving flanks, and loosened girth, 

 was standing absolutely pumped out the pace had 

 been severe while his rider sat on the prairie and 

 watched with some annoyance a dark speck dis- 

 appearing over the horizon in a cloud of dust. 



A herd of buffalo were much more easily over- 

 hauled. They probably hampered one another's move- 

 ments when at the gallop ; at all events, I never found 

 any difficulty under ordinary circumstances, and when 

 mounted on a good horse, in riding up alongside of a 

 herd. On one occasion our men roped a buffalo calf, 

 which we ear-marked and turned loose again. 



