But I Started To Write You About
Something Quite Different From All This - To Tell You Of A Really Grand
Hunt I Have Been On - A Splendid Chase After Buffalo!
A week or so ago it was decided that a party of enlisted men should be
sent out to get buffalo meat for Thanksgiving dinner for
everybody - officers and enlisted men - and that Lieutenant Baldwin, who
is an experienced hunter, should command the detail.
You can imagine
how proud and delighted I was when asked to go with them. Lieutenant
Baldwin saying that the hunt would be worth seeing, and well repay one
for the fatigue of the hard ride.
So, one morning after an early breakfast, the horses were led up from
the stables, each one having on a strong halter, and a coiled picket
rope with an iron pin fastened to the saddle. These were carried so
that if it should be found necessary to secure the horses on the
plains, they could be picketed out. The bachelors' set of quarters is
next to ours, so we all got ready together, and I must say that the
deliberate way in which each girth was examined, bridles fixed, rifles
fastened to saddles, and other things done, was most exasperating. But
we finally started, about seven o'clock, Lieutenant Baldwin and I
taking the lead, and Faye and Lieutenant Alden following.
The day was very cold, with a strong wind blowing, so I wore one of
Faye's citizen caps, with tabs tied down over my ears, and a large
silk handkerchief around my neck, all of which did not improve my
looks in the least, but it was quite in keeping with the dressing of
the officers, who had on buckskin shirts, with handkerchiefs,
leggings, and moccasins. Two large army wagons followed us, each drawn
by four mules, and carrying several enlisted men. Mounted orderlies
led extra horses that officers and men were to ride when they struck
the herd.
Well, we rode twelve miles without seeing one living thing, and then
we came to a little adobe ranch where we dismounted to rest a while.
By this time our feet and hands were almost frozen, and Faye suggested
that I should remain at the ranch until they returned; but that I
refused to do - to give up the hunt was not to be thought of,
particularly as a ranchman had just told us that a small herd of
buffalo had been seen that very morning only two miles farther on. So,
when the horses were a little rested, we started, and, after riding a
mile or more, we came to a small ravine, where we found one poor
buffalo, too old and emaciated to keep up with his companions, and
who, therefore, had been abandoned by them, to die alone. He had eaten
the grass as far as he could reach, and had turned around and around
until the ground looked as though it had been spaded.
He got up on his old legs as we approached him, and tried to show
fight by dropping his head and throwing his horns to the front, but a
child could have pushed him over. One of the officers tried to
persuade me to shoot him, saying it would be a humane act, and at the
same time give me the prestige of having killed a buffalo! But the
very thought of pointing a pistol at anything so weak and utterly
helpless was revolting in the extreme. He was such an object of pity,
too, left there all alone to die of starvation, when perhaps at one
time he may have been leader of his herd. He was very tall, had a fine
head, with an uncommonly long beard, and showed every indication of
having been a grand specimen of his kind.
We left him undisturbed, but only a few minutes later we heard the
sharp report of a rifle, and at once suspected, what we learned to be
a fact the next day, that one of the men with the wagons had killed
him. Possibly this was the most merciful thing to do, but to me that
shot meant murder. The pitiful bleary eyes of the helpless old beast
have haunted me ever since we saw him.
We must have gone at least two miles farther before we saw the herd we
were looking for, making fifteen or sixteen miles altogether that we
had ridden. The buffalo were grazing quietly along a meadow in between
low, rolling hills. We immediately fell back a short distance and
waited for the wagons, and when they came up there was great activity,
I assure you. The officers' saddles were transferred to their hunters,
and the men who were to join in the chase got their horses and rifles
ready. Lieutenant Baldwin gave his instructions to everybody, and all
started off, each one going in a different direction so as to form a
cordon, Faye said, around the whole herd. Faye would not join in the
hunt, but remained with me the entire day. He and I rode over the
hill, stopping when we got where we could command a good view of the
valley and watch the run.
It seemed only a few minutes when we saw the buffalo start, going from
some of the men, of course, who at once began to chase them. This kept
them running straight ahead, and, fortunately, in Lieutenant Baldwin's
direction, who apparently was holding his horse in, waiting for them
to come. We saw through our field glasses that as soon as they got
near enough he made a quick dash for the herd, and cutting one out,
had turned it so it was headed straight for us.
Now, being on a buffalo hunt a safe distance off, was one thing, but
to have one of those huge animals come thundering along like a steam
engine directly upon you, was quite another. I was on one of
Lieutenant Baldwin's horses, too, and I felt that there might be
danger of his bolting to his companion, Tom, when he saw him dashing
by, and as I was not anxious to join in a buffalo chase just at that
time, I begged Faye to go with me farther up the hill.
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