strike him on the head, but thinking better of it fired the bullet after
the bull, who had resumed his flight, then drew rein and determined
to rejoin my companions. It was high time. The breath blew hard from
Pontiac's nostrils, and the sweat rolled in big drops down his sides;
I myself felt as if drenched in warm water. Pledging myself (and I
redeemed the pledge) to take my revenge at a future opportunity, I
looked round for some indications to show me where I was, and what
course I ought to pursue; I might as well have looked for landmarks in
the midst of the ocean. How many miles I had run or in what direction,
I had no idea; and around me the prairie was rolling in steep swells
and pitches, without a single distinctive feature to guide me. I had
a little compass hung at my neck; and ignorant that the Platte at this
point diverged considerably from its easterly course, I thought that by
keeping to the northward I should certainly reach it. So I turned
and rode about two hours in that direction. The prairie changed as I
advanced, softening away into easier undulations, but nothing like the
Platte appeared, nor any sign of a human being; the same wild endless
expanse lay around me still; and to all appearance I was as far from my
object as ever. I began now to consider myself in danger of being
lost; and therefore, reining in my horse, summoned the scanty share of
woodcraft that I possessed (if that term he applicable upon the prairie)
to extricate me. Looking round, it occurred to me that the buffalo might
prove my best guides. I soon found one of the paths made by them in
their passage to the river; it ran nearly at right angles to my course;
but turning my horse's head in the direction it indicated, his freer
gait and erected ears assured me that I was right.

But in the meantime my ride had been by no means a solitary one.
The whole face of the country was dotted far and wide with countless
hundreds of buffalo. They trooped along in files and columns, bulls