Gory, and without thinking twice, dropped to the ground again.
"Come up here!" roared Dan. "Do you want to be horned to pieces?"
"Will they horn one?" I queried.
"Yes, as quickly as a mad bull at home."
"Then, Matt, get up, and be quick about it."
There was no need to tell the Irish sailor twice. A buffalo bull had spotted him, and with a wild snort, was coming for him, horns down.
"Be the powers!" gasped Gory. "Save me! hilp!" and he made a wild dash for the tree, but slipped and fell.
I fully expected to see him gored to death, but, before the buffalo bull could reach him, Dan's pistol rang out, and the beast staggered and dropped back, with an ugly wound just below his left eye.
"Come, Matt, get up!" I yelled, and as the sailor made for the tree, I leaned far down and caught his hand. Just as I hauled him up the bull made another charge, striking the tree trunk with a shock that shook the tree from end to end.
In a minute more we found the two mahogany trees surrounded by exactly eleven bulls, for these curious creatures sometimes congregate in this fashion, although not always. They were wild-looking beasts, and from their breathing
