at me. Then a stick cracked under his foot; I gave him a poke in the
ribs. When we got to the land between the lake at D, Sousi pointed
and said, "They are here." We sneaked with the utmost caution that
way--it was impossible to follow any one trail--and in 200 yards Sousi
sank to the ground gasping out, "La! la! maintenon faites son portrait
au taut que vous voudrez." I crawled forward and saw, not one, but
half a dozen Buffalo. "I must be nearer," I said, and, lying flat
on my breast, crawled, toes and elbows, up to a bush within 75
yards, where I made shot No. 1, and saw here that there were 8 or
9 Buffalo, one an immense bull.

Sousi now cocked his rifle-I said emphatically: "Stop! you must not
fire." "No?" he said in astonished tones that were full of story
and comment. "What did we come for?" Now I saw that by backing
out and crawling to another bunch of herbage I could get within 50
yards.

"It is not possible," he gasped.

"Watch me and see," I replied. Gathering all the near vines
and twisting them around my neck, I covered my head with leaves
and creeping plants, then proceeded to show that it was possible,
while Sousi followed. I reached the cover and found it was a bed
of spring anemones on the far side of an old Buffalo wallow, and
there in that wallow I lay for a moment revelling in the sight. All
at once it came to me: Now, indeed, was fulfilled the long-deferred
dream of my youth, for in shelter of those flowers of my youth, I
was gazing on a herd of wild Buffalo. Then slowly I rose above the
cover and took my second picture.