“When about thirty yards behind the buffalo, one stopped. The bit I was using was severe. I pulled and threw my horse back on his haunches. The buffalo was an immense bull. He appeared to me as big as a mountain. He turned facing me, his body at an angle, cocked his head on the side, then threw it toward the ground and, quicker than a flash, came down the hill like a landslide.
“My horse struggled against the bit and tried to jump toward the buffalo and turn him as he would a steer. I tried to swing his head away and dug my spurs into his sides to make him move, but he did not understand why he should run from a buffalo. He did respond a little and turned so that his haunches were toward the great brute coming down the hill.
“The head of the buffalo was in striking distance. He looked like a great devil. His beadlike eyes flashed fire. The next instant I expected the horse to be pitched down the hill. I could feel myself thrown into the air and then gored to death when I struck the ground. I could see the mangled body of the dead hunter.
“While my six-shooter was a powerful gun, I knew that if I should shoot the brute in the head, the ball would not go through the mass of matted hair and the thick skull. Still there was nothing else to do. I thought my time had come. In order to hit him at all it was necessary to shoot over my left arm. In my haste I pulled the trigger too soon. The loud report startled the horse into a run and turned the buffalo. Its discharge, so near my head, gave me a terrible shock. I thought the shot had blown away all the right side of my head and I put up my hand to keep my brains from falling out, but there were neither brains nor blood on my hand. The bullet had just grazed my head and gone through the rim of my hat. That brute looked like an infuriated demon. I couldn’t have been more frightened if I had met the devil himself at the mouth of hell.
“When it was all over, I was not in a mood for challenging him again, but as he loped away, Al. ran his horse abreast and from a safe distance put a shot into his brisket. He fell dead. Believe me, I have had many close calls, but that was the one time in all my life when I was really scared.”
“What extraordinary experiences people do have in this country,” Will Mason exclaimed, as he leaned forward to light a fresh cigar. “Speaking of Ed. reminds me of a strange coincidence which happened the year after he came West.