La Gironiere’s First Shot at a Buffalo.
Page [93].
This is the way in which it is done: the hunter takes a gun on which he can depend, and places himself in such a position that the buffalo must see him on issuing from the wood. The moment the animal sees him, he rushes on him with the utmost velocity, breaking, rending, and trampling under foot every obstacle to the fury of his charge; he rushes on as if about to crush the enemy, then stops within some paces for a few seconds, and presents his sharp and threatening horns. This is the moment that the hunter should fire, and lodge his ball in the forehead of the foe. If unfortunately his gun misses fire, or if his coolness fails him, if his hand trembles, or his aim is bad, he is lost—Providence alone can save him! This was, perhaps, the fate that awaited me; but I was resolved to tempt this cruel proof, and I went forward with intrepidity—perhaps to death. We at length arrived on the skirts of an extensive wood, in which we felt assured there were buffaloes, and here we halted. I was sure of my gun, and I conceived I was equally so of my self-possession; I therefore determined that the hunt should be conducted as if I had been a simple Indian. I placed myself at the spot where it was fully expected that the animal would come out, and I forbade anyone to remain near me. I ordered everyone to his proper place, and I then stood alone on the open ground, about two hundred paces from the borders of the forest, to await an enemy that would show me no mercy if I missed him. It is, I confess, a solemn moment, when one stands between life and death by the more or less certainty of a gun, or the greater or less steadiness of the arm that holds it. I was, however, perfectly tranquil. When all were at their posts two hunters entered the forest, having first thrown off some of their clothing, the more readily to climb up trees in case of danger: they had no other arms than a cutlass, and were accompanied by the dogs. A dead silence continued for upwards of half-an-hour; everyone listening for the slightest noise, but nothing was heard. The buffalo continues a long time frequently without betraying his lair; but at the end of the half-hour we heard the repeated barking of the dogs, and the shouts of the hunters: the animal was aroused from his cover. He defended himself for some time against the dogs, till at length, becoming furious, he sprang forward with a bound towards the skirts of the forest. In a few minutes after, I heard the crashing of the branches and the young trees that the buffalo rent asunder in the terrible velocity of his course. His advance could only be compared to the galloping of several horses—to the rushing noise of some frightful monster—or, I might almost say, of some furious and diabolical being. Down he came like an avalanche; and at this moment, I confess, I experienced such lively emotions that my heart beat with extraordinary rapidity. Was it not death—aye, and frightful death—that was perhaps approaching me? Suddenly the buffalo made his appearance. He stopped for an instant; gazed, as if frightened, around him; sniffed up the air of the plain which extended in the distance; then, with distended nostrils, head bent, and horns projected, he rushed towards me, terrible and furious. The moment was come. If I had longed for an opportunity of showing off my courage and sang-froid to the Indians, these two precious qualities were now put to a severe test. There I was, face to face with the peril I had courted; the dilemma was one of the most decided and unavoidable that could possibly be: conqueror or conquered, there must be a victim—the buffalo or me, and we were both equally disposed to defend ourselves.
Horns of the Buffalo.
It would be difficult for me to state exactly what was passing in my mind, during the brief period which the buffalo took in clearing the distance that lay between us. My heart, so vividly agitated while the ferocious animal was rushing through the forest, now beat no longer. My eyes were fixed upon him, my gaze was rivetted on his forehead in such a manner that I could see nothing else. My mind was concentrated on one object alone, in which I was so absorbed, that I could actually hear nothing, though the dogs were still barking at a short distance, as they followed their prey. At length, the buffalo lowered his head, presented his sharp-pointed horns, stopped for a moment, then, with a sudden plunge, he rushed upon me, and I fired. My ball pierced his skull, and I was half saved. The animal fell within a pace of me, like a mass of rock, so loud, and so heavy. I planted my foot between his two horns, and was preparing to fire my second barrel, when a long and hollow bellowing indicated that my victory was complete—the monster had breathed his last sigh. My Indians then came up. Their joy was succeeded by admiration; they were in ecstasy; I was everything they could wish for. All their doubts had vanished with the smoke of my rifle, when, with steady aim, I had shot the buffalo. I was brave; I had won their confidence; I had stood the test. My victim was cut up in pieces, and borne in triumph to the village. As the victor, I took his horns; they were six feet long. I have since deposited them in the museum of Nantes. The Indians, those imaginative beings, called me thenceforward, “Malamit Oulou,” Tagal words, which signify “cool head.”
I must confess, without vanity, that the proof to which my Indians had subjected me was sufficiently serious to give them a decided opinion of my courage, and to satisfy them that a Frenchman was as brave as themselves. The habit I subsequently acquired of hunting convinced me that but little danger is really incurred when the weapon is a good one, and the self-possession does not fail. Once every month I indulged in this exercise, which imparts such lively sensations; and I recognised the facility with which one may lodge a ball in a plain surface, a few inches in diameter, and at a few paces distance. But it is no less true that our first huntings were very dangerous. Once only I permitted a Spaniard named Ocampo to accompany us. I had taken the precaution to station two Indians at his side; but when I quitted them to take up my own post, he imprudently sent them away, and soon after, the buffalo started from the wood, and rushed upon him. He fired both his barrels, and missed the animal; we heard the reports and ran towards him, but it was too late! Ocampo was no longer in existence. The buffalo had gored him through and through, and his body was ploughed up with frightful wounds. But no such accident ever took place again; for when strangers came to witness our buffalo hunts, I made them get up in a tree, or on the crest of a mountain, where they might remain as spectators of the combat, without taking any part in it, or being exposed to any danger.
And now that I have described buffalo hunting in the mountains, I must return to my colonising labours.
