s arms, and,
giving him a toss high up in the air, let him drop down a-straddle of
his back, just behind the hump, for a pleasant evening ride. Understand
me, now--I am not positive in saying that this is precisely what the
bison would have done had our hero taken to his heels. Though the thing
may have happened once or twice since time began, I have never heard of
a runaway boy being chased by a bison bull; and, therefore, can only
guess how such a beast would deport himself under the circumstances. But
I am rather inclined to think he would hardly do anything more dreadful
than play the savage antic just suggested; because, a moment's
reflection would show him that to use his horns to a greater length,
were to frighten the young runaway out of his wits, and thereby
incapacitate him from being made to see and feel the error of his way.
Though, I must confess that, for my own part, I should not be willing to
trust the savage fellow a single horn's length until I had subjected him
to a certain old-fashioned test--I would first take care to see how far
I could fling the bull by the tail, and make the result the measure of
my confidence in his good intentions.

Step by step, still came the monster slowly on, and now was come so near
that the boy could feel his moist breath warming the air around him.
Another step, and their noses had been all but within touching distance
of each other. But just at that moment--just as the cry of pap! pap!
rang affrightedly out on the still evening air--the red moccasins,
which, up to this time, had remained perfectly quiet, seemed to be
seized all on a sudden with an animated interest in what was passing.
With a hop, step and jump, they were, in a twinkling, right at the
bull's nose and pouring upon it a shower of kicks, so rapid and stunning
that the beast, huge and powerful as he was, staggered backward several
paces, with a look of utter bewilderment. Nor did the pertinacious
little stunners let him off till they had forced him back to the very
brink of the steep; when, with a roar of fright and pain which shook the
lonely wilds, the monster wheeled about, and making a blind leap,
vanished over the precipice. This done, the red moccasins quietly
retraced their steps, and, with the same air of easy self-assurance,
adjusted themselves before the boy, who, not so fearful now as sullen,
buried his face once more in his coonskin cap; and never a word of
thanks to them, nor to any one else, t