his left--guessing the quantity, of course. Pouring this
into the gun he put the muzzle to his mouth, and spat the ball into it,
struck the butt on the pommel of the saddle to send it down, as well as
to drive the powder into the pan, and taking his chance of the gun
priming itself, he aimed as before, and pulled the trigger. The
explosion followed, and a second buffalo lay dead upon the plain, with a
glove beside it to show to whom it belonged.

Scenes similar to this were being enacted all over the plain, with this
difference, that the bad or impatient men sometimes fired too soon and
missed their mark, or by only wounding the animals, infuriated them and
caused them to run faster. One or two ill-trained horses shied when the
guns were fired, and left their riders sprawling on the ground. Others
stumbled into badger-holes and rolled over. The Indians did their work
well. They were used to it, and did not bend their bows until their
horses almost brushed the reeking sides of the huge brutes. Then they
drew to the arrow heads, and, leaning forward, buried the shafts up to
the feathers. The arrow is said to be even more deadly than the bullet.

Already the plain was strewn with dead or dying buffaloes, and the
ground seemed to tremble with the thunder of the tread of the affrighted
animals. Jasper had `dropt' three, and Arrowhead had slain two, yet the
pace did not slacken--still the work of death went on.

Having seen Pemberton shoot another animal, Heywood became fired with a
desire to try his own hand, so he edged away from his companion. Seeing
a very large monstrous-looking buffalo flying away by itself at no great
distance, he turned his horse towards it, grasped his gun, shook the
reins, and gave chase.

Now poor Heywood did not know that the animal he had made up his mind to
kill was a tough old bull; neither did he know that a bull is bad to
eat, and dangerous to follow; and, worse than all, he did not know that
when a bull holds his tail stiff and straight up in the air, it is a
sign that he is in a tremendous rage, and that the wisest thing a man
can do is to let him alone. Heywood, in fact, knew nothing, so he
rushed blindly on his fate. At first the bull did not raise his tail,
but, as the rider drew near, he turned his enormous shaggy head a little
to one side, and looked at him out of the corner of his wicked little
eye. When Heywood came within a few yards and, in attempting to take
aim,