nothing seems to interrupt. Ravines are passed, and waterless plains
traversed, and rivers crossed without hesitation. In many cases broad
streams, with steep or marshy banks, are attempted, and thousands either
perish in the waters or become mired in the swamp, and cannot escape,
but die the most terrible of deaths. Then is the feast of the eagles,
the vultures, and the wolves. Sometimes, too, the feast of the hunter;
for when the Indians discover a gang of buffaloes in a difficulty of
this kind, the slaughter is immense.

Hunting the buffalo is, among the Indian tribes, a profession rather
than a sport. Those who practise it in the latter sense are few indeed,
as, to enjoy it, it is necessary to do as we had done, make a journey of
several hundred miles, and risk our scalps, with no inconsiderable
chance of losing them. For these reasons few amateur-hunters ever
trouble the buffalo.

The true professional hunters--the white trappers and Indians--pursue
these animals almost incessantly, and thin their numbers with lance,
rifle, and arrow.

Buffalo-hunting is not all sport without peril. The hunter frequently
risks his life; and numerous have been the fatal results of encounters
with these animals. The bulls, when wounded, cannot be approached, even
on horseback, without considerable risk, while a dismounted hunter has
but slight chance of escaping.

The buffalo runs with a gait apparently heavy and lumbering--first
heaving to one side, then to the other, like a ship at sea; but this
gait, although not equal in speed to that of a horse, is far too fast
for a man on foot, and the swiftest runner, unless favoured by a tree or
some other object, will be surely overtaken, and either gored to death
by the animal's horns, or pounded to a jelly under its heavy hoofs.
Instances of the kind are far from being rare, and could amateur-hunters
only get at the buffalo, such occurrences would be fearfully common. An
incident illustrative of these remarks is told by the traveller and
naturalist Richardson, and may therefore be safely regarded as a fact.

"While I resided at Charlton House, an incident of this kind occurred.
Mr Finnan McDonald, one of the Hudson's Bay Company's clerks, was
descending the Saskatchewan in a boat, and one evening, having pitched
his tent for the night, he went out in the dusk to look for game.

"It had become nearly dark when he fired at a bison bull, which was
galloping over a small emine