CHAPTER XXIX.
The first buffalo—Father excited—Mr. Woolsey lost—Strike trail of big camp—Indians dash at us—Meet Maskepetoon.
I have noticed that while man's stomach seems to need a lot of stimulating, yet there are circumstances when this organ, in turn, becomes a great stimulator; and the slowest in our party seemed to me to feel this that day, so we rode steadily and fast.
South-east was our course into the big bend of the Battle River.
In the afternoon we did sight a buffalo. There he stood in his hugeness and ugliness, on a plain, without any cover.
The only way was to run him; so father and Peter made ready for the race.
Father was tremendously excited, and rushed around like a boy, pulled off his big riding-boots and left them on the prairie, then threw down his coat, untied his waterproof from his saddle and flung that down also, and putting on a pair of moccasins, he vaulted into the saddle with all the spring and vigor of youth, and rode off with Peter towards the bull, who presently noticed them, and lifting up his big, shaggy head, snuffed the air, and pawed the ground, and then started.
His legs seemed to have no bend in them, and his gait at first was slow, but as the horses came near on the dead run his gait increased in speed. As he ran he turned his head from side to side to catch a glimpse of his pursuers.
At first I thought I could catch him on foot; then he spurted, and the hunters drove their horses to their best. Still the brute was too far ahead for them to shoot, and thus buffalo and hunters disappeared in the hills from our view, and, after them, William; only our pack-horses, and Mr. Woolsey and myself, were left.