José — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

JOSE, , 73 at a sudden conclusion, had untied one of the disen- gaged horses, walking along the side of the wagons, as quickly gained its back, and the next moment was dashing away, fast as the horse would go, in the direction whence the sounds had proceeded, in the meantime unslinging a short rifle which he wore strapped upon his back. “Halloo! what’s up?” cried the wagon-boss, riding up from the rear of the train; “has the boy had an attack of sun-stroke?” “It’s like the bullet fever,” Bill replied, chuckling ; “but I reckon you’d better ride after ’em, sir,” he continued, with a serious mien. “It’s a dangerous thing when the first ball fails to settle a buffalo, and I think I’ve heard Mr. Green’s pistol speak.” For only a second the wagon-boss gazed into the expressive countenance of the old freighter, when he turned his horse in the same direction taken by Jose, who had meanwhile disappeared over the ridge of the prairie, but when he reached the in- cline, he looked vainly about him for an indication by which to tell what direction he should next pur- sue. Like rolling billows the prairie extended on each side. Beyond the crest of the next knoll he could see, while he noticed in every direction tracks, made either by the hoofs of the buffaloes or the horses, he could not tell which. He paused to listen, but not a sound of any kind reached his ears. He dashed onward to the next ridge of the prairie, without success, however. <A third endeavor in a side direction proved equally fruitless, and after a moment of painful suspense, with a despairing shake of the head, he finally turned back to rejoin his companions. Inspired with the enthusiasm of the chase Green - Eomichboo Ss)