morning invited to exercise; the ground was apparently good, and the
distance across the prairie (two or three miles) gave us a fine
opportunity to charge them before they could get among the river hills. It
was too fine a prospect for a chase to be lost; and, halting for a few
moments, the hunters were brought up and saddled, and Kit Carson, Maxwell,
and I, started together. They were now somewhat less than half a mile
distant, and we rode easily along until within about three hundred yards,
when a sudden agitation, a wavering in the band, and a galloping to and
fro of some which were scattered along the skirts, gave us the intimation
that we were discovered. We started together at a hand gallop, riding
steadily abreast of each other; and here the interest of the chase became
so engrossingly intense, that we were sensible to nothing else. We were
now closing upon them rapidly, and the front of the mass was already in
rapid motion for the hills, and in a few seconds the movement had
communicated itself to the whole herd.

A crowd of bulls, as usual, brought up the rear, and every now and then
some of them faced about, and then dashed on after the band a short
distance, and turned and looked again, as if more than half inclined to
fight. In a few moments, however, during which we had been quickening our
pace, the rout was universal, and we were going over the ground like a
hurricane. When at about thirty yards, we gave the usual shout, (the
hunter's _pas de charge_,) and broke into the herd. We entered on the
side, the mass giving way in every direction in their heedless course.
Many of the bulls, less active and fleet than the cows, paying no
attention to the ground, and occupied solely with the hunter, were
precipitated to the earth with great force, rolling over and over with the
violence of the shock, and hardly distinguishable in the dust. We
separated on entering, each singling out his game.