es of the
prairie.

I pressed the spur to my horse's flank, and dashed out into the open
plain. Fifty others had done the same, yelling as they shot out of the
thicket.

With my reins resting on my left fingers, and my rifle thrown crosswise,
I galloped forward, filled with the wild excitement that such an
adventure imparts. I was cocked and ready, resolved upon having the
first shot.

It was but a short distance from where I had started to the nearest
buffalo. I was soon within range, my horse flying like an arrow.

"Is the animal asleep? I am within ten paces of him, and still he stirs
not! I will fire at him as he lies."

I raised my rifle, levelled it, and was about to pull the trigger, when
something red gleamed before my eyes. It was blood!

I lowered the piece with a feeling of terror, and commenced dragging
upon the rein; but, before I could pull up, I was carried into the midst
of the prostrate herd. Here my horse suddenly stopped, and I sat in my
saddle as if spell-bound. I was under the influence of a superstitious
awe. Blood was before me and around me. Turn which way I would, my eye
rested upon blood!

My comrades closed in, yelling as they came; but their yelling suddenly
ceased, and one by one reined up, as I had done, with looks of
consternation and wonder.

It was not strange, at such a sight. Before us lay the bodies of the
buffaloes. They were all dead, or quivering in the last throes. Each
bad a wound above the brisket, and from this the red stream gurled out,
and trickled down their still panting sides. Blood welled from their
mouths and out of their nostrils. Pools of it were filtering through
the prairie turf; and clotted gouts, flung out by the struggling hoof,
sprinkled the grass around them!

"Oh, heavens! what could it mean?"

"Wagh! Santisima! Sacre Dieu!" were the exclamations of the hunters.

"Surely no mortal hand has done this?"

"It wa'n't nuthin' else," cried a well-known voice, "ef yur call an
Injun a mortal. 'Twur a red-skin, and this child--look 'ee-e!"

I heard the click of a rifle along with this abrupt exclamation. I
turned suddenly. Rube was in the act of levelling his piece. My eye
involuntarily followed the direction of the barrel. There was an object
moving in the long grass.

"A buffalo that still kicks," thought I, as I saw the mass of dark-brown
hair; "he is going to finish him; it is the calf!"

I had scarcely made the observation