re-crossing and firing
recklessly in all directions, it seemed a very miracle that no fatal
accidents occurred. Minor ones there were. Archie and his nautical
comrade witnessed a few of these.

"I say, look at Bourassin!" exclaimed the former, pointing to the left
with his nose--both hands being fully engaged with gun and bridle.

The seaman's eye turned in the direction indicated, and he beheld
Bourassin's horse stopped by the hairy forehead of a buffalo-bull, while
Bourassin himself was in the act of describing a magnificent parabolic
curve over the buffalo's back. He alighted on his back, fortunately on
a low bush, a yard or two beyond the buffalo's tail.

"Killed!" exclaimed Jenkins, anxiously, as he turned his horse in the
direction of the fallen man.

But the seaman was wrong. The hunter did indeed lie flat and motionless
for a few seconds--which was just as well, for it gave the bull time to
toss off the horse, turn, and leap over the prostrate man in continuing
its flight; but in another moment Bourassin was on his feet, soon caught
his trembling horse, remounted, and continued the chase.

A little further on they saw Peter Davidson's horse put his foot in a
badger-hole, the result of which was that the horse rolled over in one
direction, while the expert Peter, tumbling cleverly to one side, rolled
away in another direction like a Catherine-wheel. Both horse and man
arose unhurt, and, like Bourassin, continued the chase.

"Necks ain't easy broke in this here country," remarked the seaman, as
Archie pushed past him in pursuit of a fat young cow.

"Not often. Necks are tough, you see, and ground is mostly soft," cried
Archie, as he fired and dropped the cow.

"Who's that away to the right, ridin' like a madman after a calf?" asked
Jenkins, overtaking Archie, who was recharging his gun at the gallop.

"Who--where?" cried the boy, looking impatiently round.

"Keep cool, lad! Whatever condition you chance to be in, whether of
danger or safety, always keep cool. For why?--it makes you comfortable,
or more fit for action, as the case may be. See, the fellow over there
half-hidden by smoke."

"Why, that's Duncan McKay. You might know him by his hat."

"I ain't a good judge o' hats," remarked the seaman, as he fired at a
bull and missed it. "Ha! that comes o' firin' at long range," he said.
"It was at least six yards off, an' I can't count on the old blunderbuss
beyond five. Better luck next ti