Fortunately for Oscar Preston he was not dealing with the stupid bison of our Western plains, which will dash madly over a precipice when stampeded, and when suffering for want of water walk deliberately into a quicksand that is already choked with the bodies of their dying comrades.

The animals that were then approaching, always alert and wary, scented danger while it was yet in the distance, and, dividing right and left, gave Oscar's boulder a wide berth.

But one herd—composed of antelopes, that are held by some hunters to be the equal of the koodoo in cunning, and greatly its superior in speed—was caught napping this time, and when Oscar's rifle cracked one of them fell.

While the young hunter was watching for a chance to put in his second barrel he was startled by a clatter of hoofs behind, so loud that it drowned all the rest, and, looking over his shoulder without changing his position, he was horrified to see a herd of buffaloes, numbering a hundred or more, dashing by within less than thirty yards of him.

They carried their tails high in the air, held their shaggy heads close to the ground, in readiness to toss the first thing that came in their way; their eyes were fairly green with fury, and, taken altogether, their appearance was enough to frighten anybody.

Oscar, knowing that his only chance for life lay in concealment, hugged the ground as closely as he could until the last of the herd had passed him, and then, jumping to his feet, gave the nearest of them a shot behind the shoulder.

He knew the bullet had taken effect. But the buffalo kept straight ahead, and presently he and his companions were out of sight.

When the cloud of dust and the animals that raised it had passed on, and the dogs had swept by, running at random, but all keeping up a terrific yelping, Oscar arose to his feet, and went to take a look at his new prize.

It was a valuable one—an oryx, sometimes called gemsbok—and, like the koodoo, was probably destined to stand alone in the Yarmouth Museum, the only representative of its species.

It was about three feet and a half high at the shoulders, and, like many other African antelopes, carried a bushy tail and an erect mane.

Its horns were long and straight, and the markings about its head made it look as though it had a bridle on.

This species is quite independent of water, grows fat on arid plains, where any other antelope would starve to death, and is so fleet and enduring, and so very alert and watchful besides, that it is almost impossible to shoot one of them. By the time he had completed his examination the Kaffir came up.

"Go and get my horse," said Oscar, "and then take this fellow up in front of you, and lead the way toward the wagon. We'll go home. A koodoo and an oryx in two days ought to satisfy anybody. I had a snap shot at a buffalo, but I didn't bring him down."

When Oscar came to retrace his steps he found that he had ridden much further away from the wagon than he supposed.

He did not see any landmarks that were familiar to him until he reached the hill on which he had shot the sentinel koodoo, and then it lacked only an hour of being dark.

As they were riding over this hill the Kaffir suddenly stopped, and without saying a word pointed before him with his finger.

Oscar turned his head, and saw some animal lying under a tree that stood in the edge of the nearest grove.

"What is it?" he asked in a cautious whisper. "It cannot be an elephant or a rhinoceros!"

"No," answered the after-rider. "Buffalo. Bad hurt. Look out!"

"Oh! that's my old friend, is it?" exclaimed the boy. "I'll see if I can't make a better shot this time."

The young hunter had not yet forgotten how badly he had been frightened by a charging buffalo on the evening he was hunting the secretary-bird, and consequently the Kaffir's warning was entirely unnecessary. He intended to look out, and he was resolved, also, to secure that buffalo's head if he could.

"I am going up nearer, to see if I can get a shot at him," said he in a low tone. "When he charges I will lead him by, within a few yards of you, and you must be ready to drop him. Be sure and do good work now, for I don't know how these horses of ours are going to act."

Oscar rode slowly toward the buffalo, and the longer he looked at him the larger he seemed to grow.

It was plain that he was badly wounded, and that made him all the more dangerous. Having approached within less than fifty yards of him without attracting his attention, Oscar stopped his horse and took a few minutes in which to decide upon a plan of operations.

"If I shoot at him from the saddle and my horse throws me I shall be in a fix," said he to himself. "If I dismount, and the buffalo charges me, and my horse will not let me mount him again, I shall be in another fix. Perhaps I had better make him get up."

The buffalo got upon his feet a few seconds later, but Oscar did not make him do it. It was the dogs.

They came in, one after the other, having given up the pursuit of the antelopes, and on discovering the buffalo rushed at him in a body.

The savage beast met them half-way, charging directly toward Oscar, who wheeled his horse and fled at the top of his speed.

As he flew by the hill on which the Kaffir was stationed the latter fired both barrels of his gun, each bullet telling loudly upon the buffalo; but he never stopped, nor did he seem to notice Oscar, who circled around out of his way, and drew up a little distance in the rear of the Kaffir. He kept straight on to the nearest grove, and in five minutes more both he and the dogs were out of sight in the bushes.

"Come on, Thompson!" shouted Oscar after he had listened for a few moments to the sounds of the chase. "He is going on through, and we will meet him on the other side."

Oscar rode fast, and to his great delight succeeded in reaching the opposite side of the grove just as the buffalo broke through the bushes into the open ground.

The hunter's blood was up now, and without waiting to inquire whether or not he ran any risks by such a proceeding he pulled up his horse, and discharged both barrels of his rifle as rapidly as he could draw the trigger.

When he took the weapon down from his shoulder he found that he was still firmly seated in his saddle, and that his horse was standing motionless in his tracks.

"Come now, old fellow, that was pretty well done," said Oscar approvingly. "Little Gray himself couldn't be steadier. If this is the way you are going to behave that buffalo is mine."

A piercing shriek from the Kaffir, who had followed close at his heels, interrupted Oscar's soliloquy.

The native was leaning forward in his saddle, his eyes were fixed with a frightened stare, and his finger was pointing steadily at some object on the other side of Oscar.

The boy looked, and saw a sight that made the cold chills creep all over him. Two new hunters, whose aid was neither required nor desired, had suddenly appeared upon the scene.

They were a full-grown lion and lioness. They had doubtless been sleeping away the day in a little clump of thorn bushes that grew in the open plain, about a hundred yards from the grove, and having been aroused from their nap by the yelping of the dogs, they had come out of their retreat to take part in the hunt.

"Tao! tao!" shouted the Kaffir, who wheeled his horse and was off at breakneck speed.

Scarcely realizing what he was doing, Oscar sat motionless in his saddle and watched the chase. The dogs lost no time in withdrawing from the race, and the buffalo and the lions were left to settle the matter among themselves.

The huge beast kept resolutely on, but the long bounds of his savage pursuers rapidly diminished the distance between them, and at last the lioness, outstripping her heavier companion, sprang into the air and fastened her claws in his flanks.

During the short but desperate battle that followed Oscar gained a pretty good idea of a buffalo's strength, activity, and courage. The lioness did not pull him down, as the boy expected she would, for she could not.

The buffalo shook her off with the greatest ease, charged her with the utmost fury, and if her mate had not been close at hand to lend his assistance it is hard to tell how the fight would have ended.

His superior weight and muscle brought the matter to a speedy termination. Fighting gallantly to the last, the buffalo went down, and in a few minutes his struggles were over.

Now, beyond a doubt, it would have been a magnificent act of daring if Oscar Preston had ridden up to those lions and settled both of them by sending a bullet through their heads; and if he had done so we should be glad to record the fact. But he did nothing of the kind. He sat on his horse like one stupefied until the chase and the battle were ended, and then withdrew, quite content to leave the noble beasts to the full enjoyment of their supper.