sn't much the worse for it, but his fine
double-barrelled gun was twisted into a shape that would almost have
puzzled an Injin to tell what it was." Well, Harry, all the time that
Jacques was telling me this we were gaining on the buffaloes, and at
last we got quite close to them, and as luck would have it, the very
thing that happened to the amateur sportsman happened to me. I went
madly after a big bull in spite of Jacques's remonstrances, and just
as I got alongside of him up went his tail (a sure sign that his anger
was roused), and round he came, head to the front, stiff as a rock; my
poor charger's chest went right between his horns, and, as a matter of
course, I continued the race upon _nothing_, head first, for a
distance of about thirty yards, and brought up on the bridge of my
nose. My poor dear father used to say I was a bull-headed rascal,
and, upon my word, I believe he was more literally correct than he
imagined; for although I fell with a fearful crash, head first, on the
hard plain, I rose up immediately, and in a few minutes was able to
resume the chase again. My horse was equally fortunate, for although
thus brought to a sudden stand while at full gallop, he wheeled about,
gave a contemptuous flourish with his heels, and cantered after
Jacques, who soon caught him again. My head bothered me a good deal
for some time after this accident, and swelled up till my eyes became
almost undistinguishable; but a few weeks put me all right again. And
who do you think this man Jacques is? You'd never guess. He's the
trapper whom Redfeather told us of long ago, and whose wife was killed
by the Indians. He and Redfeather have met, and are very fond of each
other. How often in the midst of these wild excursions have my
thoughts wandered to you, Harry! The fellows I meet with here are all
kind-hearted, merry companions, but none like yourself. I sometimes
say to Jacques, when we become communicative to each other beside the
camp-fire, that my earthly felicity would be perfect if I had Harry
Somerville here; and then I think of Kate, my sweet, loving sister
Kate, and feel that, even although I had you with me, there would
still be something wanting to make things perfect. Talking of Kate,
by the way, I have received a letter from her, the first sheet of
which, as it speaks of mutual Red River friends, I herewith enclose.
Pray keep it safe,