After Tete Rouge had alarmed the camp, no
further disturbance occurred during the night.
The Arapahoes did not
attempt mischief, or if they did the wakefulness of the party
deterred them from effecting their purpose. The next day was one of
activity and excitement, for about ten o'clock the men in advance
shouted the gladdening cry of "Buffalo, buffalo!" and in the hollow
of the prairie just below us, a band of bulls were grazing. The
temptation was irresistible, and Shaw and I rode down upon them. We
were badly mounted on our traveling horses, but by hard lashing we
overtook them, and Shaw, running alongside of a bull, shot into him
both balls of his double-barreled gun. Looking round as I galloped
past, I saw the bull in his mortal fury rushing again and again upon
his antagonist, whose horse constantly leaped aside, and avoided the
onset. My chase was more protracted, but at length I ran close to
the bull and killed him with my pistols. Cutting off the tails of
our victims by way of trophy, we rejoined the party in about a
quarter of an hour after we left it. Again and again that morning
rang out the same welcome cry of "Buffalo, buffalo!" Every few
moments in the broad meadows along the river, we would see bands of
bulls, who, raising their shaggy heads, would gaze in stupid
amazement at the approaching horsemen, and then breaking into a
clumsy gallop, would file off in a long line across the trail in
front, toward the rising prairie on the left.
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