d two of the
animals that had become separated from the others in some way, dashed
directly by the horsemen and out upon the prairie.

"Now, Ned," called out Tom; "there's your chance! Take that head one! He
will make you a good supper if you can fetch him down!"

The lad and his animal were seized with a sudden inspiration seemingly
at the same time. Just as the heart of the young hunter swelled with a
wild desire to bring down the noble game, the mustang bounded away in
pursuit of the very buffalo which had been indicated by the trapper. As
the rider saw himself drawing rapidly near the huge body, lumbering
awkwardly but rapidly along, he was seized with a fluttering which,
perhaps was natural, but which, unless overcome, was fatal to any hopes
of procuring any supper. The mustang drew steadily nearer, Ned's
agitation increasing every minute, until pursuer and pursued were
running side by side.

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