Soon another cow and calf stepped out after
them. I did not wish to shoot, waiting for the appearance of the big
bull which I knew was accompanying them.
So for several minutes I watched the great, clumsy, shaggy beasts, as
all unconscious they grazed in the open glade. Behind them rose the dark
pines. At the left of the glade the ground fell away to form the side of
a chasm; down in its depths the cataracts foamed and thundered; beyond,
the huge mountains towered, their crests crimsoned by the sinking
sun. Mixed with the eager excitement of the hunter was a certain half
melancholy feeling as I gazed on these bison, themselves part of the
last remnant of a doomed and nearly vanished race. Few, indeed, are
the men who now have, or evermore shall have, the chance of seeing the
mightiest of American beasts, in all his wild vigor, surrounded by the
tremendous desolation of his far-off mountain home.
At last, when I had begun to grow very anxious lest the others should
take alarm, the bull likewise appeared on the edge of the glade, and
stood with outstretched head, scratching his throat against a young
tree, which shook violently.
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