Bull hardly paused. He plunged down, rolled over in
the debris, struggled to his feet again instantly, and went ploughing
and snorting up the opposite steep. As his colossal front, matted with
mud, loomed up over the brink, his little eyes rolling and flaming, and
the froth flying from his red nostrils, he formed a very nightmare of
horror to those fugitives who dared to look behind them.

Surmounting the brink, he paused. There were so many enemies, he knew
not which to pursue first. But straight ahead, in the very middle of the
open, and far from any shelter, he saw a huddled group of children and
nurses fleeing impotently and aimlessly. Shrill cries came from the
cluster, which danced with colors, scarlet and yellow and blue and vivid
pink. To the mad buffalo, these were the most conspicuous and the
loudest of his foes, and therefore the most dangerous. With a bellow he
flung his tail straight in the air, and charged after them.

An appalling hush fell, for a few heartbeats, all over the field. Then
from different quarters appeared uniformed attendants, racing and
shouting frantically to divert the bull's attention. From fleeing groups
black-coated men leapt forth, armed only with their walking-sticks, and
rushed desperately to defend the flock of children, who now, in the
extremity of their terror, were tumbling as they ran. Some of the nurses
were fleeing far in front, while others, the faithful ones, with eyes
starting from their heads, grabbed up their little charges and struggled
on under the burden.

Already Last Bull was halfway across the space which divided him from
his foes. The ground shook under his ponderous gallop. At this moment
Payne reappeared on the broken porch.

One glance showed him that no one was near enough to intervene. With a
face stern and sorrowful he lifted the deadly .405 Winchester which he
had brought out with him. The spot he covered was just behind Last
Bull's mighty shoulder.

The smokeless powder spoke with a small, venomous report, unlike the
black powder's noisy reverberation. Last Bull stumbled. But recovering
himself instantly, he rushed on. He was hurt, and he felt it was those
fleeing foes who had done it. A shade of perplexity darkened Payne's
face. He fired again. This time his aim was true. The heavy expanding
bullet tore straight through bone and muscle and heart, and Last Bull
lurched forward upon his head, ploughing up the turf for yards. As his
mad eyes softened