ade anyone to remain near me. I
ordered everyone to his proper place, and I then stood alone on the
open ground, about two hundred paces from the borders of the forest,
to await an enemy that would show me no mercy if I missed him. It is,
I confess, a solemn moment, when one stands between life and death by
the more or less certainty of a gun, or the greater or less steadiness
of the arm that holds it. I was, however, perfectly tranquil. When
all were at their posts two hunters entered the forest, having
first thrown off some of their clothing, the more readily to climb
up trees in case of danger: they had no other arms than a cutlass,
and were accompanied by the dogs. A dead silence continued for
upwards of half-an-hour; everyone listening for the slightest noise,
but nothing was heard. The buffalo continues a long time frequently
without betraying his lair; but at the end of the half-hour we heard
the repeated barking of the dogs, and the shouts of the hunters:
the animal was aroused from his cover. He defended himself for some
time against the dogs, till at length, becoming furious, he sprang
forward with a bound towards the skirts of the forest. In a few minutes
after, I heard the crashing of the branches and the young trees that
the buffalo rent asunder in the terrible velocity of his course. His
advance could only be compared to the galloping of several horses--to
the rushing noise of some frightful monster--or, I might almost say,
of some furious and diabolical being. Down he came like an avalanche;
and at this moment, I confess, I experienced such lively emotions that
my heart beat with extraordinary rapidity. Was it not death--aye,
and frightful death--that was perhaps approaching me? Suddenly the
buffalo made his appearance. He stopped for an instant; gazed, as if
frightened, around him; sniffed up the air of the plain which extended
in the distance; then, with distended nostrils, head bent, and horns
projected, he rushed towards me, terrible and furious. The moment was
come. If I had longed for an opportunity of showing off my courage
and sang-froid to the Indians, these two precious qualities were now
put to a severe test. There I was, face to face with the peril I had
courted; the dilemma was one of the most decided and unavoidable that
could possibly be: conqueror or conquered, there must be a victim--the
buffalo or me, and we were both equally disposed to defend ourselves.

It would be difficult for me to