A BUFFALO HUNT IN JALA-JALA.
"The Indians consider the pursuit of the buffalo the most dangerous of all hunts; and my guards told me they would rather place their naked breast at twenty paces from a rifle's muzzle than find themselves at the same distance from a wild buffalo. The difference is, they say, that a rifle bullet may only wound, whereas a buffalo's horn is sure to kill.
"Taking advantage of their fear of the buffalo, I one day informed them, with all the coolness I could assume, of my intention to hunt that animal. Thereupon they exerted all their eloquence to dissuade me from my project; they drew a most picturesque and intimidating sketch of the dangers and difficulties I should encounter; I, especially, as one unaccustomed to that sort of fight—for such a chase is in fact a life or death contest. I would not listen to them. I had declared my will; I would not discuss the subject, or attend to their advice.
Boats on the River Pasig.
"It was fortunate that I did not; for these affectionate counsels, these alarming pictures of the dangers I was about to run, were given and drawn by way of snare; they had agreed among themselves to estimate my courage accordingly as I accepted or avoided the combat. My only reply was an order to get everything in readiness for the hunt. I took care that my wife should know nothing of the expedition, and I set out, accompanied by a dozen Indians, almost all armed with guns.
"The buffalo is hunted differently in the plain and in the mountains. In the plain, all that is needed is a good horse, agility, and skill in throwing the lasso. In the mountains, an extraordinary degree of coolness is requisite. This is how the thing is done: The hunter takes a gun, upon which he is sure he can depend, and so places himself that the buffalo, on issuing from the forest, must perceive him. The very instant the brute sees you, he rushes upon you with his very utmost speed, breaking, crushing, trampling under foot, everything that impedes his progress. He thunders down upon you as though he would annihilate you; at a few paces distance, he pauses for a moment, and presents his sharp and menacing horns.
"It is during that brief pause that the hunter must take his shot, and send a bullet into the center of his enemy's brow. If unfortunately the gun misses fire, or if his hand trembles and his ball goes askew, he is lost—Providence alone can save him! Such, perhaps, was the fate that awaited me; but I was determined to run the chance. We reached the edge of a large wood, in which we felt sure that buffaloes were; and there we halted. I was sure of my gun; I thought myself tolerably sure of my coolness, and I desired that the hunt should take place as if I had been a common Indian. I stationed myself on a spot over which everything made it probable that the animal would pass, and I suffered no one to remain near me. I sent every man to his post, and remained alone on the open ground, two hundred paces from the edge of the forest, awaiting a foe who would assuredly show me no mercy if I missed him.
"That is certainly a solemn moment in which one finds himself placed thus between life and death, all depending on the goodness of a gun, and on the steadiness of the hand that grasps it. I quietly waited. When all had taken up their positions, two men entered the forest, having previously stripped off a part of their clothes, the better to climb the trees in case of need. They were armed only with cutlasses, and accompanied by dogs. For more than half an hour a mournful silence reigned. We listened with all our ears, but no sound was heard.
"The buffalo is often very long before giving sign of life. At last the reiterated barking of the dogs, and the cries of the prickers, warned us that the beast was afoot. Soon I heard the cracking of the branches and young trees, which broke before him as he threaded the forest with frightful rapidity. The noise of his headlong career was to be compared only to the gallop of several horses, or to the rush of some monstrous and fantastical creature; it was like the approach of an avalanche. At that moment, I confess, my emotion was so great that my heart beat with extraordinary rapidity. Was it death, a terrible death, that thus approached me? Suddenly the buffalo appeared. He stood for a moment, glared wildly about him, snuffed the air of the plain, and then, his nostrils elevated, his horns thrown back upon his shoulders, charged down upon me with terrible fury.