This was the critical moment when the rider should have fired, and when the horse had been taught to expect him to do so; but when our hero raised the heavy Indian gun to his shoulder, his trembling, together with the jolting of his mustang, now upon a dead run, told him that it would be useless to fire, when the only chance of hitting his prey was by the merest accident. Accordingly, he lowered his gun, in the hopes of quieting his nerves, so as to bring himself up to the self-appointed task. As he did so, his horse began shying off from the buffalo. He was afraid of the horns of the enraged creature, and having given him all the opportunity he could expect, he was not willing to keep him company any longer. The paths continued to diverge until they were twenty yards apart, when the mustang appeared to think all danger was passed. By this time Ned Chadmund felt that he was master of himself, and he turned the head of his horse toward the immense fugitive, still gliding forward at the same terrific rate. "I'll fetch him this time," he muttered, with a determined air. CHAPTER XXV. ALONE AGAIN. The mustang, trained as he was to this sort of hunting, steadily drew up again to the buffalo, which was plunging forward with unabated speed, while Ned held his rifle ready to fire whenever the critical moment should come. He concluded that the proper place at which to aim was the head, and, drawing his gun to his shoulder, he did not hesitate, although he knew the aim was anything but a good one. It struck the bison beyond all question, but did no more than irritate him; for, without any other warning than a sudden lowering of the head, he wheeled, and turned directly upon the horse, with the evident purpose of disemboweling him. But the latter had seen this sort of business before, and was prepared for it. Without attempting to turn to the one side or the other, or to check his speed in the least, he made a terrific flying leap upward, going clear over the head of the buffalo, landing upon the other side, and continuing his flight at his leisure, as it may be said. This was a clever trick of the mustang, but it proved the undoing of his rider, who had no other saddle than the Indian blanket strapped to the horse's back. This was good enough, except in such a sudden emergency as the present, when Ned was entirely unprepared for it. It was done in a twinkling, the end of it being that he found himself lying upon the green sward of the prairie, considerably bruised, and with horse and buffalo rapidly speeding from view. "This is a go," said the lad, rising to his feet and looking about him. "I don't see where the fun of buffalo hunting comes in."