We scrambled from this ravine, and galloping away through the hollows, soon found another, winding like a snake among the hills, and so deep that it completely concealed us.  We rode up the bottom of it, glancing through the shrubbery at its edge, till Henry abruptly jerked his rein, and slid out of his saddle.  Full a quarter of a mile distant, on the outline of the farthest hill, a long procession of buffalo were walking, in Indian file, with the utmost gravity and deliberation; then more appeared, clambering from a hollow not far off, and ascending, one behind the other, the grassy slope of another hill; then a shaggy head and a pair of short broken horns appeared issuing out of a ravine close at hand, and with a slow, stately step, one by one, the enormous brutes came into view, taking their way across the valley, wholly unconscious of an enemy.  In a moment Henry was worming his way, lying flat on the ground, through grass and prickly-pears, toward his unsuspecting victims.  He had with him both my rifle and his own.  He was soon out of sight, and still the buffalo kept issuing into the valley.  For a long time all was silent.  I sat holding his horse, and wondering what he was about, when suddenly, in rapid succession, came the sharp reports of the two rifles, and the whole line of buffalo, quickening their pace into a clumsy trot, gradually disappeared over the ridge of the hill.  Henry rose to his feet, and stood looking after them.

“You have missed them,” said I.

“Yes,” said Henry; “let us go.”  He descended into the ravine, loaded the rifles, and mounted his horse.

We rode up the hill after the buffalo.  The herd was out of sight when we reached the top, but lying on the grass not far off, was one quite lifeless, and another violently struggling in the death agony.

“You see I miss him!” remarked Henry.  He had fired from a distance of more than a hundred and fifty yards, and both balls had passed through the lungs—­the true mark in shooting buffalo.

The darkness increased, and a driving storm came on.  Tying our horses to the horns of the victims, Henry began the bloody work of dissection, slashing away with the science of a connoisseur, while I vainly endeavored to imitate him.  Old Hendrick recoiled with horror and indignation when I endeavored to tie the meat to the strings of raw hide, always carried for this purpose, dangling at the back of the saddle.  After some difficulty we overcame his scruples; and heavily burdened with the more eligible portions of the buffalo, we set out on our return.  Scarcely had we emerged from the labyrinth of gorges and ravines, and issued upon the open prairie, when the pricking sleet came driving, gust upon gust, directly in our faces.  It was strangely dark, though wanting still an hour of sunset.  The freezing storm soon penetrated to the skin, but the uneasy trot of our heavy-gaited horses kept us warm enough, as we forced them unwillingly in the teeth of the sleet and rain,