before him. A dark and dreary night succeeded; but the sun rose with
heat so sultry and languid that the captain excused himself on that
account from waylaying an old buffalo bull, who with stupid gravity was
walking over the prairie to drink at the river. So much for the climate
of the Platte!

But it was not the weather alone that had produced this sudden abatement
of the sportsmanlike zeal which the captain had always professed. He had
been out on the afternoon before, together with several members of his
party; but their hunting was attended with no other result than the
loss of one of their best horses, severely injured by Sorel, in vainly
chasing a wounded bull. The captain, whose ideas of hard riding were all
derived from transatlantic sources, expressed the utmost amazement at
the feats of Sorel, who went leaping ravines, and dashing at full speed
up and down the sides of precipitous hills, lashing his horse with
the recklessness of a Rocky Mountain rider. Unfortunately for the poor
animal he was the property of R., against whom Sorel entertained an
unbounded aversion. The captain himself, it seemed, had also attempted
to "run" a buffalo, but though a good and practiced horseman, he had
soon given over the attempt, being astonished and utterly disgusted at
the nature of the ground he was required to ride over.

Nothing unusual occurred on that day; but on the following morning Henry
Chatillon, looking over the oceanlike expanse, saw near the foot of the
distant hills something that looked like a band of buffalo. He was not
sure, he said, but at all events, if they were buffalo, there was a fine
chance for a race. Shaw and I at once determined to try the speed of our
horses.

"Come, captain; we'll see which can ride hardest, a Yankee or an