"No, worse luck, they didn't. If they hed I might have scooted to one side or tudder. But instead o' comin' straight over the mountain—'tain's high, ye remember—they came around on both sides, an' afore I knowed it, I wuz right in the middle o' 'em."
"What did you do?" asked Allen, as Watson paused reflectively.
"At fust I didn't know what ter do persackly. I shot one of 'em, but bless ye, thet wuzn't nuthin', and I calkerlated as how I'd have ter ride fer it. Then of a sudden my hoss got scared and shot me over his head into a big thorn bush and made off like a streak o' greased lightnin', leaving me alone."
"With the buffalo all around you?"
"Jes' so, more'n twenty o' 'em, an' more'n a hundred others comin' up fast as they could leg it. I kin tell ye I wuz in a fix an' no error."
"It must have hurt you to land in the thorn bush?"
"Hurt? Wall say, it wuz like bein' dumped into a pit full o' daggers, that wuz! Hain't fergot the awful stickin' pain yit an' never will! But bein' chucked into thet thorn bush saved my life."
"Didn't the buffalo touch the bush?"
"Nary a one. They would come up close, on a dead run, an' then shy like a skittish hoss afore a bit o' white paper. Time an' ag'in I thought one would heave hisself atop o' me an' squash me, but the time didn't come. Say, but it wuz a sight, that wuz!" went on Watson earnestly. "Them buffalo was mad, clean stark mad, and trampled all over each other. The stampede at thet p'int didn't last more 'n three minutes an' arfter it wuz over thar wuz five buffalo dead less than four yards away from me!"
"Tramped to death by the others?"