hardier brute never trod
the prairie; but the novel sight of the buffalo filled him with terror,
and when at full speed he was almost incontrollable. Gaining the top of
the ridge, I saw nothing of the buffalo; they had all vanished amid the
intricacies of the hills and hollows. Reloading my pistols, in the best
way I could, I galloped on until I saw them again scuttling along at
the base of the hill, their panic somewhat abated. Down went old Pontiac
among them, scattering them to the right and left, and then we had
another long chase. About a dozen bulls were before us, scouring over
the hills, rushing down the declivities with tremendous weight and
impetuosity, and then laboring with a weary gallop upward. Still
Pontiac, in spite of spurring and beating, would not close with them.
One bull at length fell a little behind the rest, and by dint of much
effort I urged my horse within six or eight yards of his side. His back
was darkened with sweat; he was panting heavily, while his tongue lolled
out a foot from his jaws. Gradually I came up abreast of him, urging
Pontiac with leg and rein nearer to his side, then suddenly he did what
buffalo in such circumstances will always do; he slackened his gallop,
and turning toward us, with an aspect of mingled rage and distress,
lowered his huge shaggy head for a charge. Pontiac with a snort, leaped
aside in terror, nearly throwing me to the ground, as I was wholly
unprepared for such an evolution. I raised my pistol in a passion to
strike him on the head, but thinking better of it fired the bullet after
the bull, who had resumed his flight, then drew rein and determined
to rejoin my companions. It was high time. The breath blew hard from
Pontiac's nostrils, and the sweat rolled in big drops down his sides;
I myself felt as if drenched in warm water. Pledging myself (and I
redeemed the pledge) to take my revenge at a future opportunity, I
looked round for some indications to show me where I was, and what
course I ought to pursue; I might as well have looked for landmarks in
the midst of the ocean. How many miles I had run or in what direction,
I had no idea; and around me the prairie was rolling in steep swells
and pitches, without a single distinctive feature to guide me. I had
a little compass hung at my neck; and ignorant that the Platte at this
point diverged considerably from its easterly course, I thought that by
keeping to the northward I should certainly reach it. So I turn