ently in search of me and wondering where I had
gone. Had I fallen back to the earth, instead of clinging to the
branches, he would no doubt have crushed me to pieces with his powerful
horns.

"For some moments I lay quite helpless where I had been flung, watching
what was passing below. The mastiff still continued his attack, but was
evidently cowed by the fate of his companion, and only snapped at the
elk when he could get round to his flanks. The other dog lay among the
weeds howling piteously.

"At this moment Cudjo appeared in sight, for I had headed him some
distance in my haste. I could see the whites of his great eyes turned
up in wonderment when he perceived the rifle lying upon the ground
without seeing me. I had barely time to utter a shout of warning, when
the elk spied him; and lowering his head, rushed upon him with a loud
and furious snort.

"I was filled with fear for my faithful follower and friend. I saw that
he carried a large Indian spear--which he had found at the camp where
our companions had been massacred--but I had no hope of his being able
to ward off the impetuous attack. I saw that he did not even point the
weapon to receive the enraged animal, but stood like a statue. `He is
paralysed with terror,' thought I; and I expected the next moment to see
him impaled upon the sharp antlers and gored to death. But I had very
much mistaken my man Cudjo. When the horns were within two feet of his
breast, he stepped nimbly behind a tree, and the elk passed him with a
rush. So quick had been the action, that for a moment I thought he had
gone under; but, to my agreeable surprise, the next moment I saw him
start out from the tree, and, making a lounge with the spear, bury it
among the ribs of the animal! No matador in all Spain could have
performed the feat more cleverly.

"I shouted with delight as I saw the huge body rolling to the earth;
and, dropping down from my perch, I ran toward the spot. On reaching
it, I found the elk panting in the throes of death, while Cudjo stood
over his body safe and triumphant.

"`Bravo!' cried I, `my brave Cudjo, you have ended him in earnest!'

"`Yes, Massa,' replied Cudjo, coolly, though evidently with some slight
symptoms of triumph in his manner; `yes, Massa Roff, dis black niggur
hab gin de gemman a settler under de rib number five. He butt de breath
out of poor Cassy no more--poor ole Cassy!' and Cudjo commenced
caressing the dog Castor, which w