e raises his head, and the drops trickle from his wet beard. He
stands with an air of stupid abstraction, unconscious of the lurking
danger. Noiselessly the hunter cocks his rifle. As he sits upon the
sand, his knee is raised, and his elbow rests upon it, that he may level
his heavy weapon with a steadier aim. The stock is at his shoulder; his
eye ranges along the barrel. Still he is in no haste to fire. The bull,
with slow deliberation, begins his march over the sands to the other
side. He advances his fore-leg, and exposes to view a small spot denuded
of hair, just behind the point of his shoulder; upon this the hunter
brings the sight of his rifle to bear; lightly and delicately his finger
presses upon the hair-trigger. Quick as thought the spiteful crack of
the rifle responds to his slight touch, and instantly in the middle of
the bare spot appears a small red dot. The buffalo shivers; death has
overtaken him, he cannot tell from whence; still he does not fall, but
walks heavily forward, as if nothing had happened. Yet before he has
advanced far out upon the sand, you see him stop; he totters; his knees
bend under him, and his head sinks forward to the ground. Then his whole
vast bulk sways to one side; he rolls over on the sand, and dies with a
scarcely perceptible struggle.

Waylaying the buffalo in this manner, and shooting them as they come to
water, is the easiest and laziest method of hunting them. They may also
be approached by crawling up ravines or behind hills, or even over the
open prairie. This is often surprisingly easy; but at other times it
requires the utmost skill of the most experienced hunter. Henry
Chatillon was a man of extraordinary strength and hardihood; but I have
seen him return to camp quite exhausted with his efforts, his limbs
scratched and wounded, and his buckskin dress stuck full of thorns of
the prickly pear among which he had been crawling. Sometimes he would
lie flat upon his face, and drag himself along in this position for many
rods together.

On the second day of our stay at this place, Henry went out for an
afternoon hunt. Shaw and I remained in camp until, observing some bulls
approaching the water from the other side of the river, we crossed over
to attack them. They were so near, however, that before we could get
under cover of the bank our appearance as we walked over the sands
alarmed them. Turning round before coming within gunshot, they began to
move off to the right in