Chapter 21

SPORT had been the final cause of my trip to America - sportand the love of adventure. As the bison - buffalo, as theyare called - are now extinct, except in preserved districts,a few words about them as they then were may interest gamehunters of the present day.

　　No description could convey an adequate conception of thenumbers in which they congregated. The admirableillustrations in Catlin's great work on the North AmericanIndians, afford the best idea to those who have never seenthe wonderful sight itself. The districts they frequentedwere vast sandy uplands sparsely covered with the tuftybuffalo or gramma grass. These regions were always withinreach of the water-courses; to which morning and evening theherds descended by paths, after the manner of sheep or cattlein a pasture. Never shall I forget the first time Iwitnessed the extraordinary event of the evening drink.

　　Seeing the black masses galloping down towards the river, bythe banks of which our party were travelling, we halted somehundred yards short of the tracks. To have been caughtamongst the animals would have been destruction; for, do whatthey would to get out of one's way, the weight of thethousands pushing on would have crushed anything that impededthem. On the occasion I refer to we approached to withinsafe distance, and fired into them till the ammunition in ourpouches was expended.

　　As examples of our sporting exploits, three days taken almostat random will suffice. The season was so far advanced that,unless we were to winter at Fort Laramie, it was necessary tokeep going. It was therefore agreed that whoever left theline of march - that is, the vicinity of the North Platte -for the purpose of hunting should take his chance of catchingup the rest of the party, who were to push on as speedily aspossible. On two of the days which I am about to record thisrule nearly brought me into trouble. I quote from myjournal:

　　'Left camp to hunt by self. Got a shot at some deer lying inlong grass on banks of a stream. While stalking, I couldhardly see or breathe for mosquitos; they were in my eyes,nose, and mouth. Steady aim was impossible; and, to mydisgust, I missed the easiest of shots. The neck and flanksof my little grey are as red as if painted. He is weak fromloss of blood. Fred's head is now so swollen he cannot wearhis hard hat; his eyes are bunged up, and his face is comicto look at. Several deer and antelopes; but ground toolevel, and game too wild to let one near. Hardly caring whatdirection I took, followed outskirts of large wood, four orfive miles away from the river. Saw a good many summerlodges; but knew, by the quantity of game, that the Indianshad deserted them. In the afternoon came suddenly upon deer;and singling out one of the youngest fawns, tried to run itdown. The country being very rough, I found it hard work tokeep between it and the wood. First, my hat blew off; then apistol jumped out of the holster; but I was too near to giveup, - meaning to return for these things afterwards. Two orthree times I ran right over the fawn, which bleated in themost piteous manner, but always escaped the death-blow fromthe grey's hoofs. By degrees we edged nearer to the thicket,when the fawn darted down the side of a bluff, and was lostin the long grass and brushwood, I followed at full speed;but, unable to arrest the impetus of the horse, we dashedheadlong into the thick scrub, and were both thrown withviolence to the ground. I was none the worse; but the poorbeast had badly hurt his shoulder, and for the time was deadlame.

　　'For an hour at least I hunted, for my pistol. It was muchmore to me than my hat. It was a huge horse pistol, thatthrew an ounce ball of exactly the calibre of my doublerifle. I had shot several buffaloes with it, by riding closeto them in a chase; and when in danger of Indians I loaded itwith slugs. At last I found it. It was getting late; and Ididn't rightly know where I was. I made for the low country.

　　But as we camped last night at least two miles from theriver, on account of the swamps, the difficulty was to findthe tracks. The poor little grey and I hunted for it invain. The wet ground was too wet, the dry ground too hard,to show the tracks in the now imperfect light.

　　'The situation was a disagreeable one: it might be two orthree days before I again fell in with my friends. I had nottouched food since the early morning, and was rather done.

　　To return to the high ground was to give up for the night;but that meant another day behind the cavalcade, withdiminished chance of overtaking it. Through the dusk I sawwhat I fancied was something moving on a mound ahead of mewhich arose out of the surrounding swamp. I spurred on, butonly to find the putrid carcase of a buffalo, with a wolfsupping on it. The brute was gorged, and looked as sleek as"die schone Frau Giermund"; but, unlike Isegrim's spouse, shewas free to escape, for she wasn't worth a bullet. I was sofamished, that I examined the carcase with the hope offinding a cut that would last for a day or two; my nosewouldn't have it. I plodded on, the water up to the saddle-girths. The mosquitos swarmed in millions, and the poorlittle grey could hardly get one leg before the other. I,too, was so feverish that, ignorant of bacteria, I filled myround hat with the filthy stagnant water, and drank it at adraught.

　　'At last I made for higher ground. It was too dark to huntfor tracks, so I began to look out for a level bed. Suddenlymy beast, who jogged along with his nose to the ground, gavea loud neigh. We had struck the trail. I threw the reins onhis neck, and left matters to his superior instincts. Inless than half an hour the joyful light of a camp firegladdened my eyes. Fred told me he had halted as soon as hewas able, not on my account only, but because he, too, hadhad a severe fall, and was suffering great pain from abruised knee.'

　　Here is an ordinary example of buffalo shooting:

　　'JULY 2ND. - Fresh meat much wanted. With Jim the half-breedto the hills. No sooner on high ground than we sighted game.

　　As far as eye could reach, right away to the horizon, theplain was black with buffaloes, a truly astonishing sight.

　　Jim was used to it. I stopped to spy them with amazement.

　　The nearest were not more than half a mile off, so wepicketed our horses under the sky line; and choosing thehollows, walked on till crawling became expedient. As istheir wont, the outsiders were posted on bluffs or knolls ina commanding position; these were old bulls. To myinexperience, our chance of getting a shot seemed small; forwe had to cross the dipping ground under the brow whereon thesentinels were lying. Three extra difficulties beset us -the prairie dogs (a marmot, so called from its dog-like barkwhen disturbed) were all round us, and bolted into theirholes like rabbits directly they saw us coming; two big greywolves, the regular camp followers of a herd, were prowlingabout in a direct line between us and the bulls; lastly, thecows, though up and feeding, were inconveniently out ofreach. (The meat of the young cow is much preferred to thatof the bull.) Jim, however, was confident. I followed myleader to a wink. The only instruction I didn't like when westarted crawling on the hot sand was "Look out forrattlesnakes."'The wolves stopped, examined us suspiciously, then quietlytrotted off. What with this and the alarm of the prairiedogs, an old bull, a patriarch of the tribe, jumped up andwalked with majestic paces to the top of the knoll. We layflat on our faces, till he, satisfied with the result of hisscrutiny, resumed his recumbent posture; but with his headturned straight towards us. Jim, to my surprise, stealthilycrawled on. In another minute or two we had gained a pointwhence we could see through the grass without being seen.

　　Here we rested to recover breath. Meanwhile, three or fouryoung cows fed to within sixty or seventy yards of us.

　　Unluckily we both selected the same animal, and both fired atthe same moment. Off went the lot helter skelter, all savethe old bull, who roared out his rage and trotted up close toour hiding place.

　　'"Look out for a bolt," whispered Jim, "but don't showyourself nohow till I tell you."'For a minute or two the suspense was exciting. One hardlydared to breathe. But his majesty saw us not, and turnedagain to his wives. We instantly reloaded; and the startledherd, which had only moved a few yards, gave us the chance ofa second shot. The first cow had fallen dead almost whereshe stood. The second we found at the foot of the hill, alsowith two bullet wounds behind the shoulder. The tongues,humps, and tender loins, with some other choice morsels, weresoon cut off and packed, and we returned to camp with a grandsupply of beef for Jacob's larder.