"Diameter of the prairie, a mile and a half. It is a circle three times that: four miles and a half. Phew! I shall not hear the signal in much less than an hour. I must be patient then, and--what! The brutes are lying down! Good! There is no danger now of their making off. We shall have rare sport! One, two, three, six of them down! It must be the heat and the water. They have drunk too much. There goes another. Lucky devils! They have nothing else to do but eat and sleep, while I-- no! eight down! Well! I hope soon to eat, too. What an odd way they have of coming to the ground! How different from anything of the bovine tribe I have yet observed! I have never seen buffaloes quieting down before. One would think they were falling as if shot! Two more alongside the rest! They will soon be all upon the turf. So much the better. We can gallop up before they get to their feet again. Oh, that I could hear that horn!" And thus I went on rambling from thought to thought, and listening for the signal, although I knew that it could not be given for some time yet. The buffaloes kept moving slowly onward, browsing as they went, and continuing to lie down one after another. I thought it strange, their stretching themselves thus successively; but I had observed farm cattle do the same, and I was at that time but little acquainted with the habits of the buffalo. Some of them appeared to toss about on the ground and kick violently. I had heard of a peculiarity of these animals termed "wallowing." "They are at it," thought I. I wished much to have a clearer view of this curious exercise, but the high grass prevented me. I could only see their shaggy shoulders, and occasionally their hoofs kicking up over the sward. I watched their movements with great interest, now feeling secure that the "surround" would be complete before they would think of rising. At length the last one of the gang followed the example of his companions, and dropped over. They were all now upon their sides, half-buried in the bunch grass. I thought I noticed the calf still upon its feet; but at that moment the bugle sounded, and a simultaneous cheer broke from all sides of the prairie. I pressed the spur to my horse's flank, and dashed out into the open plain. Fifty others had done the same, yelling as they shot out of the thicket. With my reins resting on my left fingers, and my rifle thrown crosswise, I galloped forward, filled with the wild excitement that such an adventure imparts. I was cocked and ready, resolved upon having the first shot. It was but a short distance from where I had started to the nearest buffalo. I was soon within range, my horse flying like an arrow. "Is the animal asleep? I am within ten paces of him, and still he stirs not! I will fire at him as he lies." I raised my rifle, levelled it, and was about to pull the trigger, when something red gleamed before my eyes. It was blood!