It was the thump of hoofs, in a familiar beat, beat, beat.

He saw a shadow moving up a ridge.

Soon, outlined black against the yet light sky, a lone buffalo cow stood like a statue.

A moment she held toward the lake, studying the danger, then went out of sight over the ridge.
Jones spurred his horse up the ascent, which was rather long and steep, but he mounted the summit in time to see the cow join eight huge, shaggy buffalo.

The hunter reined in his horse, and standing high in his stirrups, held his hat at arms' length over his head.