I had hardly whetted my blade, when a noise from behind caused me to leap to an upright attitude, and look round; at the first glance, I comprehended the noise. A huge dark object was passing the crest of the ridge, and rushing down the hill towards the spot where I stood. It was the buffalo-bull, the same that had just left me. The sight, at first thought, rather pleased me than otherwise. Although I did not want any more meat, I should have the triumph of carrying two tongues instead of one to the camp. I therefore hurriedly sheathed my knife, and laid hold of my rifle, which, according to custom, I had taken the precaution to re-load. I hesitated a moment whether to run to my horse and mount him, or to fire from where I stood. That question, however, was settled by the buffalo. The tree and the horse were to one side of the direction in which he was running, but being attracted by the loud snorting of the horse, which had begun to pitch and plunge violently, and deeming it perhaps a challenge, the buffalo suddenly swerved from his course, and ran full tilt upon the horse. The latter shot out instantly to the full length of the trail-rope--a heavy "pluck" sounded in my ears, and the next instant I saw my horse part from the tree, and scour off over the prairie, as if there had been a thistle under his tail. I had knotted the rope negligently upon the bit-ring, and the knot had "come undone." I was chagrined, but not alarmed as yet. My horse would no doubt follow back his own trail, and at the worst I should only have to walk to the camp. I should have the satisfaction of punishing the buffalo for the trick he had served me; and with this design I turned towards him. I saw that he had not followed the horse, but was again heading himself in my direction. Now, for the first time, it occurred to me that I was in something of a scrape. The bull was coming furiously on. Should my shot miss, or even should it only wound him, how was I to escape? I knew that he could overtake me in a three minutes' stretch; I knew that well. I had not much time for reflection--not a moment, in fact: the infuriated animal was within ten paces of me. I raised my rifle, aimed at his fore-shoulder, and fired. I saw that I had hit him; but, to my dismay, he neither fell nor stumbled, but continued to charge forward more furiously than ever. To re-load was impossible. My pistols had gone off with my horse and holsters. Even to reach the tree was impossible; the bull was between it and me. To make off in the opposite direction was the only thing that held out the prospect of five minutes' safety; I turned and ran.