himself astride its back.

The whole thing was done so instantaneously that he had scarce time to
realise what had happened to him ere he felt himself sweeping
comfortably over the prairie on this novel and hitherto unridden steed!
A spirit of wild, ungovernable glee instantly arose within him. Seizing
the handle of the heavy hunting-whip, which still hung from his right
wrist by a leather thong, he flourished it in the air, and brought it
down on his charger's flank with a crack like a pistol-shot, causing the
animal to wriggle its tail, toss its ponderous head, and kick up its
heels, in a way that wellnigh unseated him.

The moment Bounce beheld this curious apparition, he uttered a short
laugh, or grunt, and, turning his horse abruptly, soon ranged up
alongside.

"Hallo, March!" he exclaimed, "are you mad, boy?"

"Just about it," cried Marston, giving the buffalo another cut with the
whip, as he looked round with sparkling eyes and a broad grin at the
hunter.

"Come, now, that won't do," said Bounce gravely. "I'm 'sponsible to
your mother for you. Git off now, or I'll poke ye over."

"Git off!" shouted the youth, "how can I?"

"Well, keep your right leg a bit to one side, an' I'll stop yer horse
for ye," said Bounce, coolly cocking his rifle.

"Hold hard, old fellow!" cried Marston, in some alarm; "you'll smash my
thigh-bone if you try. Stay, I'll do the thing myself."

Saying this, Marston drew his long hunting-knife, and plunged it into
the buffalo's side.

"Lower down, lad--lower down. Ye can't reach the life there."

March bent forward, and plunged his knife into the animal's side again--
up to the hilt; but it still kept on its headlong course, although the
blood flowed in streams upon the plain. The remainder of the buffaloes
had diverged right and left, leaving this singular group alone.

"Mind your eye," said Bounce quickly, "she's a-goin' to fall."

Unfortunately Marston had not time given him to mind either his eye or
his neck. The wounded buffalo stumbled, and fell to the ground with a
sudden and heavy plunge, sending its wild rider once again on an aerial
journey, which terminated in his coming down on the plain so violently
that he was rendered insensible.

On recovering consciousness, he found himself lying on his back, in what
seemed to be a beautiful forest, through which a stream flowed with a
gentle, silvery sound. The bank opposite rose considerably higher than
the spot on