“May we ride up to them now?” cried Bart.
“I ain’t going to have anything to do with the hunt,” cried Joses, grimly. “Let the Beaver do it all; he’s used to it. I haven’t had anything to do with buffler-hunting for a many years.”
“Are the bulls very dangerous?” said Bart then. “I mean may I ride pretty close up to one without getting gored?”
“They ain’t half so dangerous as our own bulls used to be down at the ranche, my lad, and not a quarter so dangerous as them that have taken to a wild life after jumping out of the corral.”
By this time the Beaver had signalled his followers to approach, and after giving them some instructions, they all rode off together into a bit of a valley, the Beaver and his English companions following them, so that in a few minutes they were out of sight of the approaching herd of buffalo, which came steadily on in profound ignorance of there being enemies in their neighbourhood.
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.”