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Updated: May 19, 2025
The dress of the man had little in it differing from others who lead the life of a prairie-hunter. It was a mixture of leather and blanket. The head-dress only was peculiar. That was an old souvenir of the Southern States and their negro life. The zambo had a face as ferocious in its expression as that of his confrere. It differed in colour.
Night was coming on, but the fierce and obstinate brute showed no disposition to raise the siege. He remained watchful as ever, walking round and round at intervals, lashing his tail, and uttering that snorting sound so well-known, to the prairie-hunter, and which so much resembles the grunting of hogs when suddenly alarmed. Occasionally he would bellow loudly like the common bull.
This is never the case with the eyes of the deer, which either pass hurriedly from point to point, or remain with a fixed and steadfast gaze. "I knew, therefore, it was no deer; but no matter what it was some wild creature, and all such are alike the game of the prairie-hunter. "I took aim, and pulled trigger. While doing so, I heard the voice of my companion warning me, as I thought, not to fire.
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