As the black, round mounds charged from every direction, Kentuck let out with all there was left in him.

He leaped and whirled, pitched and swerved, in a roaring, clashing, dusty melee.

Beating hoofs threw the turf, flying tails whipped the air, and everywhere were dusky, sharp-pointed heads, tossing low.

Kentuck squeezed out unscathed.

The mob of bison, bristling, turned to lumber after the main herd.