For answer Bart slipped off his horse and cocked his rifle.
“Don’t shoot till they’re turning round, my lad,” said Joses; “and then give it to that big young bull in the middle there. He’s a fine one, and we must have meat for the camp.”
“But it seems a pity; he looks such a brave fellow,” said Bart.
“Never mind; shoot him. All the other bulls will be precious glad, for he’s the tyrant of the herd, and leads them a pretty life. Now then, on you go.”
They were now some sixty yards from the herd, and no sooner did Bart take a step forward than Joses leaped lightly from his horse, and rested his rifle over the saddle ready for a sure shot when he should see his chance.
Bart tried to put on a bold front, but he felt very nervous, and walked cautiously towards the herd, where ten or a dozen bulls faced him, and now seemed to be furious, snorting and stamping with rage.
But he walked on, gaining courage as he went, but ere he had gone half-a-dozen steps six of the bulls made a headlong charge at him, and Bart stood still, ready to fire.
“How stupid I was,” he said to himself. “They’ll go right over me;” and with his heart beating heavily he felt that he must turn and run.
“Go on, my lad, go on,” shouted Joses, encouragingly; and in spite of himself, and as if bound to obey orders, the lad took a step forward again, when, to his utter amazement, the bison bulls, now not twenty yards away, stopped short, shook their heads at him, made some impotent tosses in the air, pawed up a little grass, and then turned altogether, and trotted back to take up their old position in front of the herd.
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Joses, behind him. “What did I tell you? Go on, my lad. You’ve got more heart than a bison.”