Followed by Raymond I pursued the main body of hunters, while Reynal in a great rage whipped his horse over the hill after his ragamuffin relatives.The Indians, still about a hundred in number, rode in a dense body at some distance in advance.They galloped forward, and a cloud of dust was flying in the wind behind them.I could not overtake them until they had stopped on the side of the hill where the scouts were standing.Here, each hunter sprang in haste from the tired animal which he had ridden, and leaped upon the fresh horse that he had brought with him.There was not a saddle or a bridle in the whole party.A piece of buffalo robe girthed over the horse's back served in the place of the one, and a cord of twisted hair lashed firmly round his lower jaw answered for the other.Eagle feathers were dangling from every mane and tail, as insignia of courage and speed.As for the rider, he wore no other clothing than a light cincture at his waist, and a pair of moccasins.He had a heavy whip, with a handle of solid elk-horn, and a lash of knotted bull-hide, fastened to his wrist by an ornamental band.His bow was in his hand, and his quiver of otter or panther skin hung at his shoulder.Thus equipped, some thirty of the hunters galloped away toward the left, in order to make a circuit under cover of the hills, that the buffalo might be assailed on both sides at once.The rest impatiently waited until time enough had elapsed for their companions to reach the required position.Then riding upward in a body, we gained the ridge of the hill, and for the first time came in sight of the buffalo on the plain beyond.
They were a band of cows, four or five hundred in number, who were crowded together near the bank of a wide stream that was soaking across the sand-beds of the valley.This was a large circular basin, sun-scorched and broken, scantily covered with herbage and encompassed with high barren hills, from an opening in which we could see our allies galloping out upon the plain.The wind blew from that direction.The buffalo were aware of their approach, and had begun to move, though very slowly and in a compact mass.I have no further recollection of seeing the game until we were in the midst of them, for as we descended the hill other objects engrossed my attention.
Numerous old bulls were scattered over the plain, and ungallantly deserting their charge at our approach, began to wade and plunge through the treacherous quick-sands or the stream, and gallop away toward the hills.One old veteran was struggling behind all the rest with one of his forelegs, which had been broken by some accident, dangling about uselessly at his side.His appearance, as he went shambling along on three legs, was so ludicrous that I could not help pausing for a moment to look at him.As I came near, he would try to rush upon me, nearly throwing himself down at every awkward attempt.
Looking up, I saw the whole body of Indians full a hundred yards in advance.I lashed Pauline in pursuit and reached them just in time, for as we mingled among them, each hunter, as if by a common impulse, violently struck his horse, each horse sprang forward convulsively, and scattering in the charge in order to assail the entire herd at once, we all rushed headlong upon the buffalo.We were among them in an instant.Amid the trampling and the yells I could see their dark figures running hither and thither through clouds of dust, and the horsemen darting in pursuit.While we were charging on one side, our companions had attacked the bewildered and panic-stricken herd on the other.The uproar and confusion lasted but for a moment.The dust cleared away, and the buffalo could be seen scattering as from a common center, flying over the plain singly, or in long files and small compact bodies, while behind each followed the Indians, lashing their horses to furious speed, forcing them close upon their prey, and yelling as they launched arrow after arrow into their sides.The large black carcasses were strewn thickly over the ground.Here and there wounded buffalo were standing, their bleeding sides feathered with arrows; and as I rode past them their eyes would glare, they would bristle like gigantic cats, and feebly attempt to rush up and gore my horse.
I left camp that morning with a philosophic resolution.Neither Inor my horse were at that time fit for such sport, and I had determined to remain a quiet spectator; but amid the rush of horses and buffalo, the uproar and the dust, I found it impossible to sit still; and as four or five buffalo ran past me in a line, I drove Pauline in pursuit.We went plunging close at their heels through the water and the quick-sands, and clambering the bank, chased them through the wild-sage bushes that covered the rising ground beyond.
But neither her native spirit nor the blows of the knotted bull-hide could supply the place of poor Pauline's exhausted strength.We could not gain an inch upon the poor fugitives.At last, however, they came full upon a ravine too wide to leap over; and as this compelled them to turn abruptly to the left, I contrived to get within ten or twelve yards of the hindmost.At this she faced about, bristled angrily, and made a show of charging.I shot at her with a large holster pistol, and hit her somewhere in the neck.Down she tumbled into the ravine, whither her companions had descended before her.I saw their dark backs appearing and disappearing as they galloped along the bottom; then, one by one, they came scrambling out on the other side and ran off as before, the wounded animal following with unabated speed.
