In An Instant I Was Sent Flying; And
The Mustang Was On His Back With All Four Legs In The Air.
'The bull was probably as much astonished as we were.
His
charge had carried him about thirty yards, at most, beyond
us. There he now stood; facing me, pawing the ground and
snorting as before. Badly wounded I knew him to be, - that
was the worst of it; especially as my rifle, with its
remaining loaded barrel, lay right between us. To hesitate
for a second only, was to lose the game. There was no time
to think of bruises; I crawled, eyes on him, straight for my
weapon: got it - it was already cocked, and the stock
unbroken - raised my knee for a rest. We were only twenty
yards apart (the shot meant death for one of the two), and
just catching a glimpse of his shoulder-blade, I pulled. I
could hear the thud of the heavy bullet, and - what was
sweeter music - the ugh! of the fatal groan. The beast
dropped on his knees, and a gush of blood spurted from his
nostrils.
'But the wild devil of a mustang? that was my first thought
now. Whenever one dismounted, it was necessary to loosen his
long lariat, and let it trail on the ground. Without this
there was no chance of catching him. I saw at once what had
happened: by the greatest good fortune, at the last moment,
he must have made an instinctive start, which probably saved
his life, and mine too. The bull's horns had just missed his
entrails and my leg, - we were broadside on to the charge, -
and had caught him in the thigh, below the hip. There was a
big hole, and he was bleeding plentifully. For all that, he
wouldn't let me catch him. He could go faster on three legs
than I on two.
'It was getting dark, I had not touched food since starting,
nor had I wetted my lips. My thirst was now intolerable.
The travelling rule, about keeping on, was an ugly incubus.
Samson would go his own ways - he had sense enough for that -
but how, when, where, was I to quench my thirst? Oh! for the
tip of Lazarus' finger - or for choice, a bottle of Bass - to
cool my tongue! Then too, whither would the mustang stray in
the night if I rested or fell asleep? Again and again I
tried to stalk him by the starlight. Twice I got hold of his
tail, but he broke away. If I drove him down to the river
banks the chance of catching him would be no better, and I
should lose the dry ground to rest on.
'It was about as unpleasant a night as I had yet passed.
Every now and then I sat down, and dropped off to sleep from
sheer exhaustion. Every time this happened I dreamed of
sparkling drinks; then woke with a start to a lively sense of
the reality, and anxious searches for the mustang.
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