hat seemed to say, "Well done, old
fellow; try that again!"

The old fellow did try it again, and again, and again, plunging, and
ramming, and tearing up the earth, until he formed an excavation large
enough to contain his huge body. In this bath he laid himself
comfortably down, and began to roll and wallow about until he mixed up a
trough full of thin soft mud, which completely covered him. When he
came out of the hole there was scarcely an atom of his former self
visible!

The coat of mud thus put on by bulls is usually permitted by them to
dry, and is not finally got rid of until long after, when oft-repeated
rollings on the grass and washings by rain at length clear it away.

When the old bull vacated this delectable bath, another bull, scarcely,
if at all, less ferocious-looking, stepped forward to take his turn, but
he was interrupted by a volley from the hunters, which scattered the
animals right and left, and sent the mighty herds in the distance flying
over the prairie in wild terror. The very turmoil of their own mad
flight added to their panic, and the continuous thunder of their hoofs
was heard until the last of them disappeared on the horizon. The family
party which had been fired at, however, did not escape so well. Joe's
rifle wounded a fat young cow, and Dick Varley brought it down. Henri
had done his best, but, as the animals were too far distant for his
limited vision, he missed the cow he fired at and hit the young bull
whose bath had been interrupted. The others scattered and fled.

"Well done, Dick," exclaimed Joe Blunt, as they all ran up to the cow
that had fallen. "Your first shot at the buffalo was a good 'un. Come
now an I'll show ye how to cut it up an' carry off the titbits."

"Ah! mon dear ole bull," exclaimed Henri, gazing after the animal which
he had wounded, and which was now limping slowly away. "You is not
worth goin' after. Varewell,--adieu."

"He'll be tough enough, I warrant," said Joe, "an' we've more meat here
nor we can lift."

"But wouldn't it be as well to put the poor brute out o' pain?"
suggested Dick.

"Oh, he'll die soon enough," replied Joe, tucking up his sleeves and
drawing his long hunting-knife.

Dick, however, was not satisfied with this way of looking at it. Saying
that he would be back in a few minutes he re-loaded his rifle, and
calling Crusoe to his side, walked quickly after the wounded bull, which
was now hid from view in a hollow of the