The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1897-09-17
TRACKING A BISON.
Soon the Tables Were Turned, and
He Was Tracking His Truckers.

Soon the Tables Were Turned. and
He Was Tracking His Truckers.
The tracks are quite fresh, drops of
blood are on the leaves he has brushed
against, and, with both rifles ready. we
get nearer and nearer to him. We are
going up steep hill now, the jungle in
places is not quite SO thick open
patches here and there. There he isl"
from Chippani, who has eyeslike hawk,
and a snort and short crash above us
tell us we are seen. Shoot" Chip
pani says, and to our cost 1 do. With
no cover below him, no open space to
meet him, and everything in the bulls
favor, 1 ought never to have fired, as
by making flank march 1 could easily
have got above him in comparative
safety.
However, there is not much time to
think of these things, and as fire one
barrel of the ten-bore into the thicket
where the bull is standing he comes
down the hill like a steam engine. I
give him the other barrel, but nothing
short of instant death would have
stopped him then. I turn to get be-
hind friendly tree l had fortunate
ly noticed out of the corner of my eye,
about 20 yards off, and in a second over
take Chippani and Ande making for
tie same retreat. A noise like a run
away steam engine tells me he is close
behind, and he must have been with
in three yards when 1 fell fiat on my
face, bringing the two men behind me
on the top of me as the huge brute goes
right over us 1000 miles an hour, catch
tt reading full on Chippani's thigh with
The other. By some extraordinary
chance he escaped having his leg
broken, owing probably to the ground
being very soft, and consequently his
leg giving way to pressure. am up in
second. rife gone, blood pouring from
my face, and dash for the tree, from be-
hind which l peer cautiously-or in
cautiously, 1 should say, as there he is.
ten yards off, head up, tail in air. splen.
did sight indeed, but that was not ex-
actly in the position to admire the
beauty of the situation. He sees me
and with a snort dashes at the tree.
slip round it, but he is quicker than l.
and | feel his breath and foam on my
neck, while on the lower side of the tree.
which is on the side of the steep hill
he Just catches me on the ribs with his
horn, and l am hurled into space to
land 20 feet up in the air in a thicket OF
dead bamboos, where l lie transfXed
by thorns like spears, really thinking
my last moment has come. But, no;
the side of the steep hill is too greasy
for him to stop when he has got the
pace on, and he disappears, while l
climb out of the bamboos, get hold of
my rifle, load it and count up the cas-
ualties.
Chippani is lying on the ground with
lis thigh nearly ground to powder, but
Ande comes up smiling and enjoying
the fun immensely. Leaving Chippani
behind a fallen tree, with the brandy
flask, Ande and l run along the ridge to
see where the beast has gone. We can
Just make out his back as he walks
slowly down the valley, but, as am be-
ginning to feel sick and faint, return
10 Chippani, and we lie there for an
hour, my chief sensation being as if
some one had given me an elaborate
Observation-Disclosures Magazine.