The horse swung away from the falling animal as it crashed to the ground; and the shooter, still going at full gallop, methodically ejected the used cartridge and put in another without losing his place at the tail of the flying mob.

The noise of the carbine made the mob divide, and Hugh found himself going full speed after three that came his way.

Wild with excitement, he drove Close Up after the nearest, and made ready to fire at the right moment.

The long gallop had winded him; his arm was almost numbed with the strain of carrying the carbine, which now seemed to weigh a ton.
Close Up, true to his name, made a dash at the nearest buffalo, and got close enough in all conscience; but what with the jerking to and fro of the gallop, and the rolling gait and sudden swerves of the buffalo, and the occasional blunderings of the horse in broken ground, Hugh never seemed to have the carbine pointed right.

Close Up, finding it did not go off when he expected, began to slacken pace and gallop in an undecided way.