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[Correspondence of the St. Louis Democrat.]
    Wolves were seen frequently during the day, and just as we came on the camping ground, a large one was started. Gen. Harney’s gray-hound caught sight of him, pursued him, over-took him-and never touched a hair. Whether he was afraid of the wolf, or mearly friendly to the wolf, I am unable to say. This chase was hardly over, when a herd [seven or eight] of buffalo were discerned about two miles off. Capt. Pleasonton, Gen. Harney’s aid, set off in pursuit, by himself, armed only with a Colt’s pistol, and had a dangerous adventure. His purpose was to run the game towards the camp. He succeded in driving them in the direction intended, when a body of teamsters, desirous of witnessing the sport, came in sight. The buffalo took fright and made for the hills. The hunter pursued them, but he rode a horse which had never seen a buffalo and which was hard to manage besides. The hunter singled out a bull, and shot him twice, wounding him both times. By this time he was quite close to him, on the verge of one of those clayey precipices with which the place abounds. The hunted animal suddenly stopped, stretching out his forelegs, and wheeling upon them as on a pivot, bringing himself face to face with his pursuers.
    The horse was unmanagable and rushed on the bull who set his horns to meet the onset. The collision was fearful. Pleasanton, conscious of his situation, had disengaged his feet from the stirrups, and just as the shock took place, or perhaps a moment sooner, sprung upon the back of the bull, from which he roled down the precipice. The horse having been gored in the breast and belly, died instantly. The bull next charged on the dismounted rider but two more bullets from the revolver persuaded him to alter his course. Capt. Pleasanton, I am rejoyed to say suffered no personal injury. He took the affair very coolly, unbuckold the girths of the slaughtered steed, slung the saddle and accoutrements across his shoulders and carried them to the camp. No orrreador or matador in the Spanish circus could have a more formidable antagonist or a narrower escape. The sport of buffalo hunting is now fairly initinted. Capt. Hitchcock, with the guide, chased another herd for miles. The Captain succeeded in lodging a bullet from the new Burnside rifle in one of them, and the guide hit another; but it was so late they had to turn from the pursuit before running them down. The buffalo has such great vitality that he runs for miles after being mortally wounded. No shot, unless it penetrates the heart, brings him to the ground at once.
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