"A buffalo" cried Roche, whose keen eye at last penetrated the mystery:
"a buffalo, lying down and asleep." Here, then, was another chance for
making a good meal, and we felt our courage invigorated. Gabriel went
ahead on foot, with his rifle, in the hope that he should at least get
near enough to wound the animal, while Roche and I made every
preparation for the chase. Disencumbering our horses of every pound of
superfluous weight, we started for the sport, rendered doubly exciting
by the memory of our recent suffering from starvation.
For a mile beyond where the buffalo lay, the prairie rose gradually, and
we knew nothing of the nature of the ground beyond. Gabriel crept till
within a hundred and fifty yards of the animal, which _now_ began to
move and show signs of uneasiness. Gabriel gave him a shot: evidently
hit, he rose from the ground, whisked his long tail, and looked for a
moment inquiringly about him. I still kept my position a few hundred
yards from Gabriel, who reloaded his piece. Another shot followed: the
buffalo again lashed his sides, and then started off at a rapid gallop,
directly towards the sun, evidently wounded, but not seriously hurt.
Roche and I started In pursuit, keeping close together, until we had
nearly reached the top of the distant rise in the prairie.
Pages:
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288