ed, known as "Close Up," because
he would go so close to the buffaloes, and the procession started. The
five white men rode ahead, all smoking with great enjoyment. Hugh was
beside one of the shooters, and opened conference with him.

"I've heard a lot about this business," said Hugh, "but never hoped to
see it. What are these Australian buffaloes? I thought they were just
humped cattle like those little Brahmin cattle."

"People reckon they're the Indian buffalo," said the bushman. "They were
fetched here about fifty years ago from Java--just a few pair, and they
were let go and went wild, and now they're all over the face of the
earth about here. We've shot six hundred of 'em--just the two rifles--in
six months. It's not play, I tell you, to shoot and skin six hundred and
cure their hides in that time. We'll get a thousand this season."

"Good Lord," said Hugh. "Won't they be shot out?"

"Not they. There's about eight thousand of 'em shot every year for their
hides, and it's just like the ordinary increase of a big cattle station.
They're all over these plains, and for miles and miles away down the
coast, and in the jungles there's thousands of 'em. There's jungles here
that are a hundred miles round, and no animal but a buffalo will go into
'em. The blacks say that inside them there's big patches of clear plain,
with grass and water, where there's buffaloes as thick as bees; but you
can't get at 'em."

"How do you shoot 'em?" said Hugh.

"Race right up alongside 'em, and put the carbine out with one hand, and
shoot downwards into the loin. That's the only way to drop 'em. You can
shoot bullets into 'em by the hatful everywhere else, and they just
turn and charge; and while you are dodging round, first you huntin' the
buffalo, and then the buffalo huntin' you, the rest of the mob are out
of sight. You must go right up alongside, close enough to touch 'em with
the barrel, and fire down--so." He illustrated with the carbine as he
spoke. "And whatever you do, don't pull your horse about; he knows
the game, if you don't. Never stop your horse near a wounded buffalo,
either. They make a rush as sudden as lightnin'. They look clumsy and
big; but, my oath, a wounded one can hop along something wonderful!
They'll surprise you for pace any time; but most of all when they're
wounded."

"Do they always come at you when they're wounded?" said Hugh.

"Always," said the shooter, "and very often when they're not wounded
the