Beyond the old frontier : adventures of Indian-fighters, hunters, and fur-traders . d after firing, the animal will remain still, if itdoes not immediately fall. It is a most painful sightto witness the dying struggles of the huge beast. Thebuffalo invariably evinces the greatest repugnance tolie down when mortally wounded, apparently consciousthat, when once touching mother earth, there is nohope left him. A bull, shot through the heart or lungs,with blood streaming from his mouth, and protrudingtongue, his eyes rolling, bloodshot, and glazed withdeath, braces himself on his legs, swaying fro
Beyond the old frontier : adventures of Indian-fighters, hunters, and fur-traders . d after firing, the animal will remain still, if itdoes not immediately fall. It is a most painful sightto witness the dying struggles of the huge beast. Thebuffalo invariably evinces the greatest repugnance tolie down when mortally wounded, apparently consciousthat, when once touching mother earth, there is nohope left him. A bull, shot through the heart or lungs,with blood streaming from his mouth, and protrudingtongue, his eyes rolling, bloodshot, and glazed withdeath, braces himself on his legs, swaying from sideto side, stamps impatiently at his growing weakness,or lifts his rugged and matted head and helplessly bel-lows out his conscious impotence. To the last, how-ever, he endeavours to stand upright, and plants hislimbs farther apart, but to no purpose. As the bodyrolls like a ship at sea, his head slowly turns from sideto side, looking about, as it were, for the unseen andtreacherous enemy who has brought him, the lord ofthe plains, to such a pass. Gouts of purple blood spurt. QW WO u cc HH Q O 03 O z z O George Frederick Ruxton 223 from his mouth and nostrils, and gradually the failinglimbs refuse longer to support the ponderous carcase;more heavily rolls the body from side to side, untilsuddenly, for a brief instant, it becomes rigid and still;a convulsive tremor seizes it, and, with a low, sobbinggasp, the huge animal falls over on his side, the limbsextended stark and stiff, and the mountain of fleshwithout life or motion. The first attempts of a greenhorn to kill a buffaloare invariably unsuccessful. He sees before him amass of flesh, nearly five feet in depth from the top ofthe hump to the brisket, and consequently imaginesthat, by planting his ball midway between these points,it must surely reach the vitals. Nothing, however, ismore erroneous than the impression; for to throw abuffalo in his tracks, which is the phrase of making aclean shot, he must be struck but a fe
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