Year: 1877

lNeW IOIk fOst


Grand sport is this buffalo hunting on
horseback on the open plains, where a
fair chance is given the shaggy quarry.
l recall with keen enjoyment a chase
once taken through the tall prairie
grasses about Battle River. One morn
ing, soon after sunrise, l crossed the
crest of a grassy ridge suddenly to catch
sight of solitary buffalo just emerging
from a ravine near the stream. 1t was
a full-grown bull, whose black name
and shaggy dewlaps nearly reached the
dark prairie grasses through which he
walked. Though not in quest of game,
the sight aroused all the sportsman's
instinct in me; so, dismounting behind
the hill, l frightened the girths, replaced
shot with balls, and, remounting, rode
over the ridge. As l came in view of
the huge beast, stalking slowly away af-
ter his morning drink, his head was
thrown up, one steady look given, then
round he went and ran away for the
open bluffs beyond again. Instantly l
followed, and the horse, partaking of his
masters excitement, answered gallantly
to my call. Sharply l urged him for
ward with voice and spur, until the
wild charge became headlong chase.
Then, rising in the stirrups, took
snapshot at my game. The bullet
struck him in the fanks. Quick as
lightning he wheeled down upon me,
and it was my turn to run. The boot
was decidedly on the other leg. If l
had before pushed the horse toward the
buffalo with whip and spur, still more
urgently did l now endeavor, under the
changed condition of affairs, to makeh
increase the distance between us. John
Gilpin never thundered along the road
as did down the grassy incline, with
that huge beast gaining on me at every
stride. Looking back over my shoulder,
l could see him close to the horses tail,
with lowered head, and eyes flashing fu-
riously under their shaggy fringe of hair.
1t almost seemed as ii l could feel his
hot breath on the back of my neck.


Instinctively l gathered myself up
for fall for it appeared that nothing
could prevent pursued and pursuer COM
ing into wild collision in another in
slant. even picked out grassy spot
on which to alight. As the pony MAIN
tanned his distance, however, l be-
thought me of another chance. Turning
in the saddle, threw my gun over the
crupper, at arms length, with the muz-
zle full upon the bufalo's head, and fired.
1t was a center shot; the ball struck him
in the center of the forehead, but he only
shook his head when he received it.
Still it served to check his pace some
what, and as soon as we reached level
ground the horse began to gain little
upon him. 1t was now the bulls turn
to change his tactics, and quite as sud-
denly as he had charged he wheeled and
made off.


After so long run l could not think
of losing him; so turned and dashed af-
ter him at a rattling pace. Riding along
side, this time shot fired low behind
the shoulder brought my fierce friend to
bay. Proudly he turned toward me,
rage in his eye, but with bearing at
once calm and stately. He paved the
ground, and blew with short angry snorts
the long grass till it swayed to and fro.
Moving thus slowly toward me, he
seemed the very personification of
brute strength and angry pride. But
his last moment had come.


/ recall wildly all the wild acces-
sories of the scene-the great silent
waste, the noble beast, death-stricken
but defiant; but nolanguage can picture
the coloring of sky and plain. no sound
can echo back the music of the breeze,
signing mournfully through the long
grasses; no pencil paint the east ablaZe
with gold, and green, and the thousand
glories of the prairie sunrise. All this
lasted only a moment; for the giant bull,
still advancing slowly toward his puny
enemy, with 1ow-bent head and angry
snorts, sank quietly to the plain and
stretched his limbs in death. am not
more sentimental than ordinary men,
and have done fair share of killing;
but | should like to be able to call that
grim old bull back to life. Never since
that fair morning have l taken the life
of one of his kind.