So busily were they feeding that they did not see us, but they were still too far out from the cover to allow us to get a shot at one of them; starving as we were, it was a matter of the greatest importance not to allow them to escape.
In summer, with proper precautions, when the grass was long, we might have managed to creep over the ground without being discovered by the animals, but with the white mantle which now lay on the ground we should be certain to be seen.
We remained hid behind some bushes, Pat’s mouth watering with the thoughts of the buffalo meat he hoped to obtain, and my hand trembling with anxiety. Though we could not approach the animals, they might draw nearer to us. We were still waiting in the expectation of their doing this, when another buffalo appeared on the scene, and bellowing loudly approached the herd. They retreated towards the wood, but still at a distance from where we were, when a bull advanced from among them to meet the newcomer. The latter bellowed still more loudly, and was answered by his antagonist.
In another minute the horns of the two animals were crashing furiously together.
“Now is our time,” I cried, and rushing forward with Pat’s gun in my hand, I approached the combatants. Pat followed, keeping somewhat to the right of me.
I had got to within about thirty yards of the two animals, who were moving about now on one side and now on the other with the greatest rapidity, so that it would not be very easy, I knew, to hit a vital part.
Dropping on my knee, that I might take a steadier aim, I raised my rifle and fired at one of the buffaloes, which at that moment presented its side to me. It was in the act of making a rush at its opponent, but fell before their horns met, when the other immediately rushed at it, leaping over the prostrate body of its foe.
I was about to reload my rifle, when the victorious buffalo caught sight of Pat and me, and throwing up the snow with its hoofs, and bellowing with rage, it dashed towards us.
“Run for a tree! run for a tree!” cried Pat, “or the baste will be upon us;” and suiting the action to the word, he made towards one at no great distance off. I, following his example, ran in the direction of one which appeared somewhat nearer to me. As I began to move, I felt something slip from my fingers. It was my powder-flask! Fortunately I had not yet withdrawn the cork. I had to run as fast as I had been compelled to do when escaping from the elk, with the bellowing buffalo close to my heels.
I had barely time to swing myself into the tree, when the enraged animal was up to me.