Dick Varley and his dog remained rooted to the rock, as they gazed at
the sickening sight, as if petrified. Scarce fifty of that noble herd
of buffaloes escaped the awful leap, but they escaped only to fall
before the arrows of their ruthless pursuers. Dick had often heard of
this tendency of the Indians, where buffaloes were very numerous, to
drive them over precipices in mere wanton sport and cruelty, but
he had never seen it until now, and the sight filled his soul with
horror. It was not until the din and tumult of the perishing herd and
the shrill yells of the Indians had almost died away that he turned to
quit the spot. But the instant he did so another shout was raised. The
savages had observed him, and were seen galloping along the cliffs
towards the head of the gorge, with the obvious intention of gaining
the other side and capturing him. Dick sprang on Charlie's back, and
the next instant was flying down the valley towards the camp.
He did not, however, fear being overtaken, for the gorge could not be
crossed, and the way round the head of it was long and rugged; but he
was anxious to alarm the camp as quickly as possible, so that they
might have time to call in the more distant trappers and make
preparations for defence.
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