nce. After some hesitation,
I selected a pony that pleased me, and arming myself with bow and
arrows, sallied forth upon the plain, to put into practice the hints
that had been imparted to me in regard to hunting the bison. At first it
was up-hill work; and my frantic endeavors to slide on the side of my
pony and discharge an arrow from under his neck, caused my instructors
no small merriment. After a severe fall--and I had many such--I would be
assisted to my horse's back, and recommended to try it again, with as
much coolness as if I had merely fallen from a chair.

[Illustration: The Buffalo Hunt.]

Notwithstanding the many times I came to grief, in trying to wield bow
and arrow, or lance, effectively, I kept persistently at it, and in a
week's time I had become a somewhat expert horseman, and could shoot an
arrow with tolerable accuracy. I now wished that buffaloes would be
signaled as approaching, quite as ardently as did the warriors; but in
the meantime, I persevered in my practice. One day it occurred to me
that I should like to learn to throw a lasso, and procuring one, I
coiled it, mounted, and went in search of some object on which to
practice.

By some mutability of fortune a donkey had strayed into our midst, and
had remained with the tribe for many years. No one used him, but all
considered it their privilege to tease the poor brute. He bore it calmly
and with that fortitude which is a distinguishing trait of his species.
Deeming him a very fair substitute for a buffalo, I gave my pony a sharp
cut with the whip, and dropping the rein upon his neck, prepared to
throw my lasso. My imaginary buffalo seemed to suspect that all was not
right, and acting on his suspicions galloped away, not giving my
intentions the benefit of the doubt. It was of no avail, however, for,
urging my pony to increased speed, I was soon within range, and twirling
the lasso around my head a few times, I launched it, directing its
course, as nearly as my poor skill would permit, towards the donkey's
head. It would certainly never have touched him had he pursued the
direction in which he was then running. But his evil genius prompted
him to turn, and, shaping his course so as to bisect mine at right
angles, he raised his head, and, giving vent to one of those musical
neighs (?) for which the animal is somewhat famous, rushed on in his mad
career. Poor brute! the noose hovered over him a moment, like some bird
of prey about to swoop d