They were not slow to decide upon a plan. The buffaloes, still continuing their angry conflict, had not noticed them as yet, nor were they likely to do so. The hunters resolved, therefore, that two of them should remain on horseback—so as to take the animals upon the “run”—while the third was to endeavour to “approach” them on foot, and get a sure shot before they should start off, taking his chance of joining in the chase afterwards. The latter duty was assigned to Basil; who, after dismounting from his horse, and looking to his trusty rifle, commenced creeping down into the valley. Lucien and François—still in their saddles—remained upon the ridge.
Basil reached the grove of willows without being observed; and, stealing silently through, found himself within less than fifty paces of several of the herd. They were still rushing to and fro, raising the dust in clouds, roaring furiously, parting from each other, and then meeting head to head with such force that each time their skulls cracked as though both had been broken by the terrible concussion. The hunter waited until one of the largest, and apparently the whitest of them, came very near; and then, taking aim behind the fore-shoulder, fired. The huge animal was seen to tumble over; while the others, hearing the shot, or scenting the presence of an enemy, immediately left off their contest; and, breaking through the willows, scrambled up the ridge toward the open prairie.
Without waiting to look after the one that he had fired at, Basil ran toward his horse—which, at his call, was already galloping to meet him. François and Lucien were now in pursuit of the flying herd; and Basil, hastily mounting, followed after. In a few minutes the three were side by side with the buffaloes; and then could be heard the cracking of guns and pistols until the weapons of all were empty; but, although not a shot had missed hitting the animals, the latter continued to gallop on, as though none of them had been hurt! Before the hunters could reload, they had the mortification to see the whole band far off upon the prairie, and running as briskly as ever!
Seeing that there would be no chance to come up with them again, they all turned their horses, and commenced riding back to make sure of the one which Basil had knocked over by his first shot. He was still in the valley they knew, and as they had all seen him lying prostrate, they felt certain they had secured one at least, and that was all they wanted.
On reaching the ridge that overlooked the valley, what was their surprise to see the buffalo once more upon his feet, and surrounded by a score of snapping, snarling wolves! These were rushing upon him from all sides at once; while the wounded bull was turning briskly about, and endeavouring to keep them at bay with his horns. Some of the wolves were seen stretched out on the ground—to all appearance dead—while their companions kept up the attack with unrelenting fury. The eyes of the buffalo flashed fire, as, wheeling round and round, he endeavoured to keep his assailants in front of him.
It was evident, however, that the wolves were gaining upon him; and, had they been left to themselves, would soon have brought him down. Our hunters at first thought of allowing them to accomplish this feat; when all at once it occurred to them that, if they did so, the skin might be spoiled! The wolves with their fierce teeth would tear it to pieces. This thought decided them upon a different plan; and all three galloped down the ridge and out into the meadow—surrounding the buffalo as they came up. The wolves scattered in every direction; and the great bull, now perceiving his new enemies, commenced rushing from one to the other, endeavouring to carry their horses upon his horns. It was with great difficulty that they could keep out of his reach; but at length another well-directed shot from Basil’s rifle entered the heart of the animal; and, after balancing himself upon his spread limbs, and rocking awhile from side to side, the huge creature fell forward upon his knees and lay motionless, with a stream of blood pouring from his lips. In a few moments he was dead!
Having made sure of this, our hunters flung themselves from their horses, drew their skinning-knives, and made up to the noble quarry. You may fancy their astonishment as well as chagrin, when, upon getting close to the animal, they discovered that what they had taken for a white buffalo was no white buffalo after all, but a black one painted white! Neither more nor less. The thing was too plain. The lime-like coating which covered the huge animal all over was now apparent; and as they passed their hands through the long hair, a white substance resembling pulverised chalk came off upon their fingers!
What could have caused the strange phenomenon, they asked one another. But the explanation was soon found. They remembered the gypsum hills over which they had ridden on the preceding day. They remembered, too, that it had rained in the night. The buffaloes had been among these hills; and, according to their usual habit, had rolled and wallowed about in the wetted dust-heaps. The white, alabaster-like mud had adhered to their skins—thus giving them the colour which had so much deceived and mystified our hunters!
“Well,” exclaimed Basil, giving a kick to the body of the dead bull, “even black buffalo is not so bad after all. At the worst we shall have fresh meat for dinner; and with that let us console ourselves for the disappointment.”