TERRY FINISHES HIS RIDE.
That ride of Terry Clark on the back of the buffalo bull was one which
he could never forget had he wished to do so, which of course he did
not. The first thrill, when the beast dashed off on a dead run, and the
wind began blowing by the ears of the lad, was that of pleasure. He was
having an exciting ride, and, as good fortune would have it, the animal
was bearing him straight along the trail toward the camp in the Ozarks.
"If the baste will show enough consideration for me," thought the lad,
"to kape up his coorse for twinty miles or so, he will give me a good
lift toward raichin' the folks, though sorry I am that I haven't Fred
alongside or rather behind me."
The bull being on a run, his progress consisted of a series of quick
jumps, which jarred the rider so much that had he not kept a good grip
upon the shaggy mane, he would have been unseated. The hair of the
animal was so long that he was able to make his hold secure, though he
had a constant fear that he would stumble, in which case the rider was
sure to take a tremendous header that was likely to break his neck.
Terry could feel the throb, as it may be called, of the engine. His
position was such that his heels touched the body close to the shoulders
of the bull. At that point there was an alternate swelling and sinking
of the muscles, as the animal alighted on his feet and leaped away
again, which Terry felt as plainly as if he had held his open hand on
the shoulder. Then, too, the bull had a peculiar sidelong motion, as
though some of his muscles occasionally got out of "gear," and the
action of the hind legs did not "dovetail," so to speak, with that of
the fore legs.
Nothing escaped the eye of Terry during those exciting minutes. He
thought the head of the bull was held unusually low, but he noticed the
short, thick horns, curving outward and then coming over until they
ended within a few inches of each other, and he was sure that amid the
dusty frontispiece of the immense area of skull bone he could see where
his useless bullet had struck and glanced off; once or twice he caught a
whiff of the breath of the buffalo, redolent with the not unpleasant
odor of grass, and now and then he could hear his fierce snort. It
seemed to Terry that the animal turned his head partly to one side as if
to get a view of the strange creature on his back. Doubtless such was
the fact, and, after each sight, it seemed that he bounded away with
more terror than before.
Brief as was the time taken by the bull in galloping across the prairie,
it allowed Terry to see every thing. As soon as he felt sure of
retaining his seat, he glanced at the other animals, all of which were
galloping in the same direction as the bull. Some of them were so fleet
that they passed him, but he retained his place near the middle of the
herd.
The buffalo, or properly the bison, is a stupid animal, but a peculiar
fact about the small drove amid which Terry Clark was riding was that a
number noticed him and in their way tried to push him off. They would
dash up beside the bull with head lowered, and rub their horns against
him in the effort to reach the rider and unseat him.
"The only way in which ye can do that," said Terry, when he saw what
they were trying to do, "is to climb up and take a saat behind me. Thin,
if ye'll lock yer arms about me nick ye may persuade me to stip down,
but ye can't do much while on the ground."
The buffaloes were too dull of intellect to realize their helplessness
in this respect, and they continued crowding close to the bull until
they must have caused him some discomfort. This crowding was of such a
marked character that, as you will remember, it was noticed by Fred
Linden as far off as he stood.
Once or twice the rider had one of his feet slightly jammed, but he was
able to lift it out of danger without imperiling his position. The dust
caused by the hoofs of the animals did not rise until his steed had
passed beyond, so that he suffered nothing therefrom and every thing in
front was in plain view. The speed of the beast, however, caused some
inconvenience, for the wind made him blink, and it was only by half
closing his eyes that he could peer out between the lids and see
clearly.
Before the other side of the prairie was reached, Terry Clark began
asking himself the natural and important question,--How is this to end?
The same theories that I have mentioned as occurring to Fred Linden
passed through his brain also. If the bull should dash among the trees
at that headlong pace, the rider could not retain his place for more
than a minute or two; if he was wounded enough to cause him to give out
and fall to the ground, he would be trampled upon by those behind and
Terry of course would share his fate.
Brief as was the time given for thought, the youth considered a half
dozen plans. He glanced over his shoulder and was alarmed to see how
many animals were in the rear of him. He asked himself whether he could
not slip backward, grasp the swinging tail, and dropping to the ground,
keep his feet while he held fast to the caudal appendage, and pulling
the other way, act as a brake upon the progress of the animal until all
the others had passed on. Then he would "release brakes," and allow the
bull to continue his career as suited himself.
But he was compelled to admit that the plan was not feasible. The bull
was going at such a pace that the rider would be sure to lose his
balance the moment he struck the ground, and, though he might still hold
fast to the tail and retard the progress of the beast, he was sure of
getting in the way of his heels.
"If his tail was a little longer," reflected Terry, "I would try the
same, but I'm afeard I would git mixed up with his hind hoofs and things
wouldn't be agraaable."
So that plan was abandoned.
"If he goes in among the trees, I'll lean forward on me face until he
knocks out his brains--that is, if he has any--whin I'll dismount."
That was all well enough if the bull should happen to follow the
programme, but the prospect of his doing so was too remote to afford
much comfort to the youth.
"I guess I'll kaap erict like a gintleman," he concluded, "and as soon
as a chance comes for me to jump off, I'll go."
Terry had no thought but that the buffaloes would dash among the trees
and continue their flight in the same headlong fashion, as long as they
could; but, to his amazement, the head of the drove suddenly swerved to
the left and the bull followed.
"Be the powers, but this will never do," was his conclusion; "this
perarie may raach all the way to the Gulf of Mexico, and the bull
doesn't act as if he meant to stop before he raaches there; I'm goin' to
make other arrangements."
He kept his seat until the drove had gone several hundred yards with
unabated speed. So far as he could judge, the bull was holding his own
with the rest: whatever wound he had received was of no account, so far
as its immediate effect was seen. The others continued crowding up as
before, but Terry did not mind them. He yelled and shook his head in the
hope of frightening them off so as to give him the room he wished in
order to make his venture, but they did not mind him. The odd crackling
of their hoofs, the rattling of their horns as they struck together, and
their occasional bellowing, made a din amid which no shout that he could
raise would gain any consideration whatever.
"There's one thing sartin," said Terry, compressing his lips and showing
by his action that he had made up his mind to end the business one way
or the other. "I'm tired of this crowd, and I ain't goin' to spind any
more time with it."
Between him and the wood were seven or eight buffaloes, crowding close
in their idiotic fashion, as though to push off the rider. Terry
recalled the day, early in spring, when he ran rapidly across the creek
near his home, by stepping upon the surging masses of ice, one after the
other, and leaping off again before they had time to respond to his
weight. He resolved to try something of the kind.
Holding fast to the wiry mane with his hands, he drew his feet up under
him, balanced himself a moment, then straightened up, and, turning
quickly, stepped upon the back of the bull that was immediately
alongside. Before that creature could know what had been done, the
pressure was removed and the weight of the lad was borne by a cow which
was his next neighbor.
Terry Clark ran as nimbly as a monkey across the backs of the
intervening buffaloes, until his foot rested on the one nearest the
wood. A slight slip at the moment of stepping upon his back disconcerted
him so that he could not recover himself. His intention was to land on
the ground with his face in the same direction he was going. Then, even
if he could not keep his feet, he could run with such speed that his
fall would not hurt him; but unfortunately as he struck the ground he
faced the other way, and before he could check himself, he went over
backward with such force that he was knocked senseless.
After all, the fall may be considered a fortunate one, for he was not
seriously hurt and soon recovered himself. He had received a severe
shock, but in a short time he sat up and stared about him. Recalling
what had taken place, he looked in the direction of the herd of
buffaloes. None of them was in sight, but a dark heap a short distance
away showed where the bull on which he had ridden had given out and
fallen to the ground. He was wounded more seriously than at first seemed
to be the case. Had Terry stayed on his back a few brief minutes longer,
he would have gone down with him and been trampled to death by the hoofs
of those in the rear.
"I think I'm all here, as me cousin used to remark after he had enj'yed
himself at Donnybrook Fair," said Terry, rising carefully to his feet,
swinging his arms and kicking out his legs. He had been violently
jarred, and he was alarmed by a dizziness that caused him to sit down
again. But he recovered quickly, and soon was as well as ever. He turned
to the left and passed among the trees, where, despite the coolness of
the day, he felt the relief of the shade thus afforded him.
"I s'pose Fred will be jealous whin he finds out what a foine ride I
have had," he added, his old sense of humor coming back; "but all he has
to do is to catch a buffalo bull and git on his back: but I don't think
he'll forgit the same right away."
Looking over the prairie, he saw the figure of his friend walking in
almost a direct line toward him, though he was so far off that he was
not distinctly visible, partly because of the dust which still lingered
in the air.
Fred's encounter with the Winnebago horsemen had taken place and ended
while Terry lay senseless on the ground, so that the latter had no
suspicion of the exciting occurrence.
Terry ought to have walked out on the plain, swung his hat and cheered
his friend; but that would have been contrary to his nature. He kept out
of sight among the trees, until Fred was quite close, when he broke into
vigorous whistling.
Fred heard the familiar sound, stopped short, looked about him and then
burst into laughter as he saw his comrade. The next moment they ran
together, shook hands and mutually congratulated each other, as you will
admit they had full warrant in doing.