“All ready,” answered the boys in a breath.
They rode forward at a sharp gallop. Crockett’s rifle rang out in signal to the others waiting to the north and east; and the shot also served to bring down a cow which stood near. Startled at the shot, the great heads lifted and the bulls stared about for a sight of the enemy. Then the rifles of the boys spoke and another of the beasts fell.
The air was filled with bellowings; away toward the north moved the herd. But in a few moments the reports of rifles from that point turned them toward the south and east. Jed Curley and his companion were now heard from; and as their rifles were discharged, the buffalo halted in a panic. For a moment there was a pause; then helter skelter they went in every direction over the plains, their tails up and their heads down.
The hunters had all reloaded their pieces and they now dashed in among the scattered herd, each selecting his particular quarry. The pony which Walter Jordan rode was a hard-mouthed little beast, with a temper all its own. He fancied he’d have some trouble with it if it proved to be one of those mounts which Dolph said didn’t like the smell of buffalo.
But it was the contrary. The mustang seemed to enter into the spirit of the chase with such excellent good will that the boy was delighted. He passed several cows and yearling bulls; but held his fire for bigger game. His eyes traveling over the racing buffalo had lighted upon a huge bull, a monstrous black fellow with a huge head and the shoulders and hump of a giant of his kind.
Fired with ambition and encouraged by the willingness of his horse, Walter dashed toward the black bull. When within fifteen yards he dropped the reins, steadied his pony with his knees and raised his long rifle. Clear and sharp the report rang out; the great bull stopped in his tracks, threw up his huge black head and bellowed with rage.
“Watch that fellow!” yelled Jed Curley as he dashed away in pursuit of another bull. “He’s only wounded!”
Walter remembered what old Dolph had said regarding wounded bulls, and wheeled his horse away. Rapidly he began recharging his rifle; his eyes went from this operation to the wounded bull; for the moment he forgot his horse entirely. Suddenly the mustang went to his knees; he had planted a forefoot in a prairie-dog’s hole, and Walter, unable to stop himself, went flying over his head, his rifle dropping from his hands.
Like a cat, the mustang scrambled to its feet and darted away; and the boy stood dismounted and weaponless, facing the great black bull.