.

The country was admirably adapted for a hunt, the ground being
unencumbered by anything larger than a scrubby kind of brush, while its
many shallow valleys gave the hunters ample opportunity for riding
unseen until they had reached a favourable situation for their
onslaught.

The Beaver was evidently a thorough expert in such a hunt as this, for
he kept on dismounting and making observations, directing his followers
here and there, and often approaching pretty near, making retrograde
movements, so as to bring them forward again in a more satisfactory
position.

His last arrangement was to place his following in couples about a
hundred yards apart, parallel with the line of march of the herd, which
was still invisible to Bart, though on the other side of the ridge in
whose valley he sheltered he could hear a strange snorting noise every
now and then, and a low angry bellow.

"We're to wait his signal, Master Bart, and then ride up the slope here,
and go right at the buffler. Don't be afraid, my lad, but pick out the
one you mean to have, and then stick to him till you've brought him down
with a bullet right through his shoulder."

"I'll try not to be afraid, Joses," said Bart; "but I can't help feeling
a bit excited."

"You wouldn't be good for much if you didn't, my boy," said the
frontiersman. "Now then, be ready. Is your rifle all right?"

"Yes."

"Mind then: ride close up to your bull, and as he gallops off you gallop
too, till you reach out with your rifle in one hand and fire."

"But am I to ride right up to the herd, Joses?"

"To be sure you are, my boy. Don't you be afraid, I tell you. It's
only getting over it the first time. Just you touch Black Boy with your
heels, and he'll take you right in between a couple of the bulls, so
that you can almost reach them on each side. Then you'll find they'll
begin to edge off on both sides, and get farther and farther away, when,
as I told you before, you must stick to one till you've got him down."

"Poor brute!" said Bart, gently.

"Poor stuff!" cried Joses. "We must have meat, mustn't we? You
wouldn't say poor salmon or poor sheep because it had to be killed.
Look out. Here we go."

For the Beaver had made a quick signal, and in a moment the hunting
party began to ascend the slope leading to the ridge, beyond which Bart
knew that the bison were feeding, and most probably in a similar
depression to the one in which the horsemen had been hidde