e will not approach nearer than ten or fifteen yards. Badly
mounted men think themselves well off if they secure two or three
animals during one run.

As the battle continued, the very air was darkened with dust and smoke.
Of course such a fight could not rage without casualties. There were,
in truth, many hairbreadth and some almost miraculous escapes, for the
ground was rocky and full of badger-holes. Twenty-three horses and
riders were seen at one moment all sprawling on the ground. One horse
was gored by a bull and killed on the spot: two other horses fell over
it and were disabled. One rider broke his shoulder-blade, another burst
his gun by careless loading, and lost three fingers, while another was
struck on the knee by a spent ball. The wonder was, not that so many,
but that so few, were hurt, when it is considered that the riders were
dashing about in clouds of dust and smoke, crossing and recrossing each
other in all directions, with shots firing right and left, before,
behind--everywhere--in quick succession. The explanation must be that,
every man being a trained marksman, nearly every bullet found its billet
in a buffalo's body.

With his heart in his mouth, as well as his bullets, Victor Ravenshaw
entered into the wild _melee_, scarce knowing what he was about.
Although inexperienced, he knew well what to do, for many a time had he
listened to the stories of buffalo-hunters in times past, and had put
all their operations in practice with a wooden gun in mimic chase. But
it was not easy to keep cool. He saw a fat animal just ahead of him,
pushed close alongside; pointed his gun without raising it to his
shoulder, and fired. He almost burnt the animal's hair, so near was he.
The buffalo fell and his horse leaped to one side. Victor had
forgotten this part of the programme. He was nearly unseated, but held
on by the mane and recovered his seat.

Immediately he poured powder into his palm--spilling a good deal and
nearly dropping his gun from under his left arm in the operation--and
commenced to reload while at full speed. He spat a ball into the
muzzle, just missed knocking out some of his front teeth, forgot to
strike the butt on the pommel of the saddle, (which omission would have
infallibly resulted in the bursting of the gun had it exploded), pointed
at another animal and drew the trigger. It missed fire, of course, for
want of priming. He remembered his error; corrected it, pointed again