After that day there
was no probability that we should meet with buffalo, and we were
anxious to kill one for the sake of fresh meat.
They were so wild
that we hunted all the morning in vain, but at noon as we approached
Cow Creek we saw a large band feeding near its margin. Cow Creek is
densely lined with trees which intercept the view beyond, and it
runs, as we afterward found, at the bottom of a deep trench. We
approached by riding along the bottom of a ravine. When we were near
enough, I held the horses while Henry crept toward the buffalo. I
saw him take his seat within shooting distance, prepare his rifle,
and look about to select his victim. The death of a fat cow was
certain, when suddenly a great smoke arose from the bed of the Creek
with a rattling volley of musketry. A score of long-legged
Missourians leaped out from among the trees and ran after the
buffalo, who one and all took to their heels and vanished. These
fellows had crawled up the bed of the Creek to within a hundred yards
of the buffalo. Never was there a fairer chance for a shot. They
were good marksmen; all cracked away at once, and yet not a buffalo
fell. In fact, the animal is so tenacious of life that it requires
no little knowledge of anatomy to kill it, and it is very seldom that
a novice succeeds in his first attempt at approaching.
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