It struck Clarence that the buffaloes were much nearer them than the hunting party, and that the trampling hoofs of a dozen bulls were close behind them, but with another gasp he shouted, "When are we going to hunt 'em ?" "Hunt THEM!" screamed Jim, with a hysterical outburst of truth; "why, they're huntin' US--dash it!" Indeed, there was no doubt that their frenzied horses were flying before the equally frenzied herd behind them.

They gained a momentary advantage by riding into one of the fissures, and out again on the other side, while their pursuers were obliged to make a detour.

But in a few minutes they were overtaken by that part of the herd who had taken the other and nearer side of the lagoon, and were now fairly in the midst of them.

The ground shook with their trampling hoofs; their steaming breath, mingling with the stinging dust that filled the air, half choked and blinded Clarence.

He was dimly conscious that Jim had wildly thrown his hatchet at a cow buffalo pressing close upon his flanks.