Many Of The Hunters, However, Remained Upon The Spot,
And Among The Rest Was Our Yesterday's Acquaintance, The Chief Of The
Village.
He had alighted by the side of a cow, into which he had
shot five or six arrows, and his squaw, who had followed him on
horseback to the hunt, was giving him a draught of water out of a
canteen, purchased or plundered from some volunteer soldier.
Recrossing the river we overtook the party, who were already on their
way.
We had scarcely gone a mile when an imposing spectacle presented
itself. From the river bank on the right, away over the swelling
prairie on the left, and in front as far as we could see, extended
one vast host of buffalo. The outskirts of the herd were within a
quarter of a mile. In many parts they were crowded so densely
together that in the distance their rounded backs presented a surface
of uniform blackness; but elsewhere they were more scattered, and
from amid the multitude rose little columns of dust where the buffalo
were rolling on the ground. Here and there a great confusion was
perceptible, where a battle was going forward among the bulls. We
could distinctly see them rushing against each other, and hear the
clattering of their horns and their hoarse bellowing. Shaw was
riding at some distance in advance, with Henry Chatillon; I saw him
stop and draw the leather covering from his gun. Indeed, with such a
sight before us, but one thing could be thought of.
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