Flowers and fruits from the wilderness: or, Thirty-six years in Texas and two winters in Honduras,/ by Z.N. Morrell, an old Texan.

THE DECISION.
was seen a large herd of mustangs, and on every hand
great numbers of deer. We had become so much accustomed to the latter that by this time they attracted but
little attention. All were watching for an Indian and a
buffalo.
Rising the hill across Elm Creek, the leader of our party
cried out, "What is that, with a hump on his back?" The
animal, startled by the sight of man and the sound of the
human voice, gave that noise peculiar to the buffalo tribe,
and off went a large herd, making the earth almost tremble
beneath the terrible stampede. Here was an open field, no
timber, a chance for a fair race; not one of us had ever seen
a buffalo in his life, and it was really amusing to see old men,
farmers, and deacons in the Baptist church, with the representatives of three honorable professions, all forgetting
that they were seven or eight hundred miles from home,
with horses jaded, and some of them not well since their
performance on the ropes, running their animals at the top
of their speed, and shouting with all their might. Here we
went, helter-skelter. Hurrah boys! bang, bang, bang, went
guns and pistols, and away went the herd, following close
upon the heels of their leader. They ran scientifically,
with the right foot before, a side at a time, for three or four
hundred yards. Then the leader would change and run
with the left foot before, every buffalo following him making the same change. The writer, poor fellow, rode a mule,
and it would show its blood. It would run with all its
might towards the herd; but when it would get within forty
yards, and sniff the peculiar odor that escapes the buffalo in
the chase, it would invariably shy round. Whenever I
would get near enough and ready to shoot, I would find my
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