“I reins the hoss around and turns him south and digs his sides with the rowels; and he runs toward the south jest as fast as he could—and he was a right pert pony, too.
“Well, sir, I rides and I rides, all the time keepin’ my eye peeled for the tail-end of the herd. But I sees nothin’ but buffalo, miles and miles of ’em.
“It was about the middle of the mornin’ when my hoss fell off with me like that, and an hour by sun I was still ridin’ all the time looking for the end of the herd and thinkin’ it shorely would come some time. I happened to look to the side, and what do you think I seen, Lanky? What do you think I seen?”
“Help coming, I suppose,” said Lanky.
“No sech luck,” said Joe; “no sech luck. It was the bushes we broke and the rocks we turned over when me and that hoss rolled down the hill.
“Well, I rides another half hour, I guess, and I begins to feel the hoss quiver and shake under me, and I knowed the jig was about up. When a hoss does that way, Lanky, he’s about ready to drop dead, and I knowed that might happen any time.
“Purty soon I sees an openin’, and jest as that pony jumped off the rump of the last buffalo, damn me if he didn’t drop in his tracks, dead as a hammer. I knowed that was goin’ to happen when I felt him quiver.
“Well, I climbed out on the hill afoot, forgittin’ to git my saddle; and damn lucky it was I forgot, too; for as soon as I got to the top of the hill and set down on a rock to rest, I looked back, and there was the main herd comin’ into sight, roarin’ and bellowin’ like a cyclone.
“I had to walk back to my outfit; and several days later, I rode back to the pass, but all I found of that hoss and saddle was a little greasy spot on the ground.”
“That was a narrow escape,” said Lanky. “I suspect you have had as many close calls as anybody.”