s bulky frame with a sigh, for he was somewhat weak and
dispirited--the band with which he hunted having been at the
starving-point for some days. Winklemann clothed himself in a
wolf-skin, to which the ears and part of the head adhered. A small
sledge, which may be described as a long thin plank with one end curled
up, was brought to him by a hungry-looking squaw. Four dogs were
attached to it with miniature harness made to fit them. When all was
ready the hunter flung himself flat on his face at full length on the
sledge, cracked his whip, and away went the dogs at full speed. Herr
Winklemann was armed only with bow and arrows, such weapons being most
suitable for the work in hand.

Directing his course to a small clump of trees near to which the buffalo
were scraping away the yet shallow snow to reach their food, he soon
gained the shelter of the bushes, fastened up the dogs, and advanced
through the clump to the other side.

It was a fine sight to a hungry man. About a dozen animals were
browsing there not far out of gunshot. Winklemann at once went down on
all-fours, and arranged the large wolf-skin so that the legs hung down
over his own legs and arms, while the head was pulled over his eyes like
a hood. Thus disguised, he crept into the midst of the unsuspicious
band.

The buffalo is not afraid of wolves. He treats them with contempt. It
is only when he is wounded, or enfeebled by sickness or old age, that
his sneaking enemy comes and sits down before him, licking his chops in
the hope of a meal.

A fat young cow cast a questioning glance at Winklemann as he approached
her. He stopped. She turned aside and resumed her feeding. Then she
leaped suddenly into the air and fell quivering on the snow, with an
arrow up to the feathers in her side. The hunter did not rise. The
animals near to the cow looked at her a moment, as if in surprise at her
eccentric behaviour, and then went on feeding. Again the hunter bent
his bow, and another animal lay dying on the plain. The guardian bull
observed this, lifted his shaggy head, and moved that subtle index of
temper, his tail. An ill-directed arrow immediately quivered in his
flank. With a roar of rage he bounded into the air, tossed up his
heels, and seeing no enemy on whom to wreak his vengeance--for the wolf
was crouching humbly on the snow--he dashed wildly away, followed by the
rest of the astonished herd.

The whole camp had turned out by that ti