Rocky Mountain Sam — page 145: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

136 ROCKY MOUNTAIN SAM, at the predicament in which their friends had been placed, but they soon ceased when they saw the real nature of the danger, and neither Mollie nor Fayaway could suppress a scream. ‘Room, thar, room!” cried Big Horn, elbowing his way through the crowd, just as. the balloon was being dragged past the hummock with the speed of the wind. His rifle flew to his shoulder, and the balloon was at once partially relieved, as his shot sheered off the cows tail almost at the root. Then dropping his gun, and setting his hunting-knife between his teeth, he sprang forward at the great bull’s throat. He missed it, andthe next instant would have been dashed to pieces by the car, had he not made a virtue of necessity —and missing the throat—caught thetail. He was at once carried of his feet, his-form standing out horizontally hke a pointer’s tail, as he was hurled along, but he never let go his hold, and still held the knife between his iron as. Slowly, hand over hand, he climbed his way up the can- dal appendage, and at last when its owner set its foot ina prairie-dog’s hole and stumbled, a single bound served to set the hunter on his back. The bison was up and away again in a trice, lowering his head, snorting and bellowing, but Big Horn stuck on like a panther, and drawing the knife from his mouth, plunged it: to the hilt just behind the left shoulder-blade. Again he stumbled, and again went on, but again and again the long knife entered his side, and at last he plunged forward head-first upon the plain—déad. The balloon and car righted to their natural positions, _ Big Horn coolly slid off the bull’s back, and Sam and the professor looked about in a dazed and bewildered way, while the hunters set up a hearty cheer, in which. were blended the feebler voices of Mollie Chapman and little Fayaway. ‘T’he worst Lever see!” said Sam, scrambling down to the ground when the balloon had been securely anchored. “‘Pard, give me your paw. Lord knows what would have become of usif it hadn’t been for you.” ‘“‘Kven my experiences at the South Pole hardly offered me such arare study in natural history as this of to-day,” blandly observed the professor, whose white garments still bore the marks of the stove that had rested upon his ‘CO comicbooks