Our bull was a huge one, even among his species, and in such moments of excitement the imagination seems to have a trick of entering the chambers of the eye, and sliding its mirrors into a sort of double focus arrangement. With blood boiling until my heart seemed to bob up and down on its surface, I found myself riding parallel with the brute, and had I never seen him afterward, would have been almost willing to make oath that his size could be represented only by throwing a covering of buffalo robes over an elephant.

Every one in the party was firing, some having dropped their reins to use their carbines, and others yet guiding their horses with one hand, while they fired their holster revolvers with the other. Shooting from the saddle, with a horse going at full speed, needs practice to enable one to hit any thing smaller than a mammoth. You point the weapon, but at the instant your finger presses the trigger, the muzzle may be directed toward the zenith or the earth. An experienced hunter steadies his arm, not allowing it to take part in the motion of his body, no matter how rough the latter may be. But we were not experienced hunters, and so, although such exclamations as, "That told!" "Mine went through!"

and "Perfectly riddled!" were almost as numerous as the bullets, it was easy to see that the flying monster remained unharmed.

From the first, Mr. Colon had fired without taking any aim whatever, and so it happened that his gun, in describing its half circle consequent upon the rising and falling motion of the horse, at length went off at the proper moment, and we heard the thud of the ball as it struck.

Dropping his head into position as if for a charge, the buffalo whirled sharply to the right, and pa.s.sing directly between our horses, made off toward the main herd. But he soon slowed down to a walk, and as we again came up with him, we could see the blood trickling from his nose, which he held low like a sick ox.

In the excitement of the chase, and perhaps from being well blown before coming near the buffalo, our horses had hitherto shown no fear, but now, as the old bull stood there in all his savage hugeness, and the smell of blood tainted the air, they pushed, jostled, snorted, and pranced, so that it required all our efforts to keep them from downright flight.

Even Dobeen's donkey kept his rider uncertain whether his destiny was to seek the ground or abide in the saddle.

The brute stood facing us, perhaps fifty yards off, his eyes rolling wildly from pain and fury, and the blood flowing freely through his nostrils.

We were waiting patiently for him to die, when suddenly the head went into position, like a Roman battering ram, and down he came upon us. We were utterly routed. No spur was necessary to prompt the horses, and I doubt if their former owners had ever known what latent speed their hides concealed. The whole thing was so sudden there was no time for thought, and all that I can remember is a confused sort of idea that each animal was going off at a tremendous pace, with the rider devoting his energies to sticking on. After the first few jumps, we were no longer an organized company, each brute taking his own course, and carrying us, like fragments of an explosion, in different directions. A marked exception, however, was Muggs' mule, which for the only time in his life, seemed unwilling to run away. After being the first to start, and a.s.sisting the others to stampede, he stopped suddenly short, depositing his rider something like ten yards ahead of him, in a manner quite the reverse of gentle.

We did not stop running as soon as we might have done. And I here enter protest against the nonsense indulged in on one point by most of the novelists who educate people in buffalo lore. When we halted, there stood the bull not thirty yards from the spot where he had first stopped, although we had located him, throughout more than half a mile's ride but a few feet from our horses' tails, and at times had even imagined we heard his deep panting. This mortifying record would have been saved us had we known that a buffalo's charges never extend beyond a short distance. Either his adversary or his attack is speedily terminated. He does not pursue, in the "long, deep gallop" style at all.

Yet I scarcely remember a single instance mentioned in those old books of western adventure, in which a buffalo's charge was for a less distance than a mile. In one case that I now recall, the race was nip and tuck between man and bison for over an hour, and the biped was finally enabled to save his life only by leaving the saddle and swinging into a tree! Such stories are simply balderdash.

As soon as possible after checking our horses, we rode back toward the wagon and the game, seeing in the former, the grinning faces of our men.

The buffalo was still on his feet, but while we looked he slowly sunk to his knees, like an ox lying down to rest, and then quietly reposed on his belly, in the same att.i.tude one sees domestic cattle a.s.sume when wishing a quiet chew of the cud. Had it not been for his b.l.o.o.d.y nose and wild eyes, he would have looked as peaceful as any bovine that ever breathed.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _BUREAU OF ILl.u.s.tRATION_

GOING AFTER AMMUNITION.]

Wishing to put the poor brute out of misery, we approached closer, and several of us dismounted, when a general fire was opened. Like a cat, the old fellow was on his feet again almost instantly. By a singular coincidence, our entire party just then discovered that we were out of ammunition, and in a body started for the wagon, to get some. Muggs afterward a.s.sured us that, at the time, he had just got his hand in, "so that every shot told, you know," and I have the authority of all for the deliberate statement that the bull would have been riddled before moving a foot had not the cartridges suddenly given out.

The effort of getting up had sent the ma.s.s of blood collected from inward bleeding surging out of the buffalo's nose, and, as we looked back, he was tottering feebly, and an instant afterward fell to the ground. There was no doubt now of his death, and we swarmed upon and around him. He was an immense old fellow, and his hide fairly covered with the scars of past battles. Inasmuch as this was our first trophy, it was determined to take his skin, and we forthwith seated the Professor on his great s.h.a.ggy neck, with the horns forming arms for an impromptu hunter's throne. From thence he wrote upon leaves from his note-book a letter to his cla.s.s at the East, which he permitted me to copy. I introduce it here, as showing that the blood of even a savan pulsates warmly amid such circ.u.mstances as now surrounded us.

"ON A BUFFALO, IN THE } YEAR OF MY HAPPINESS, ONE.}

"_Dear Cla.s.s_--I know the staid and quiet habits that characterize all of you, and that you are not given to hard riding and buffalo hunting. Yet this prairie air, with its rich fragrance and wild freeness, would give a new circulation to the blood of each one of you. Like a gale at sea, the breeze sweeps against one's cheeks, and the great billows of land rise on every side, as mountains of troubled ocean. Why not desert the city and lose yourself for awhile in this great grand waste? Antelope are bounding and buffalo running on every side of us, while villages of prairie dogs bark at the flying herds. One grows in self-estimation after breathing this air, and, feeling that safety and life depend on his own exertions, learns to place reliance upon the powers which Nature has given him, with manly independence of artificial laws and police.

"While I am writing, the first victim of our prowess, a magnificent specimen of the American bison, is being skinned by our suite, the robe from which, when prepared, we intend sending you. The men say it must be dressed by some of the civilized Indians on the reserves, as the white man's tanning injures the value.

"The robe is now off, and half a ton of fat meat lies exposed. We shall only take the hind quarters, a portion of the hump, and the tongue. How glad the famishing wretches in the tenement houses of the city would be for an opportunity to pick those long ribs which we leave for the wolves! His horns are somewhat battered, but we have cut them off, to supplant hooks on a future hat-rack. One of the men has just taken a large musket ball from the animal's flank.

That shot must have been received years ago, as the ball is an old fashioned one and is thickly encased in fat.

"The geological formation of the country is very interesting. I expect to examine the same more thoroughly after we have studied the animals traversing its surface. Yesterday, we had in camp a family from the Solomon, who were sufferers some months since from the fearful Indian ma.s.sacre there. Their story was an exceedingly interesting one, though very sad. We shall visit them if duty calls that way. I must close. The men have thrown the skin in the wagon, flesh side up, and deposited the meat upon it, and all are now ready for further conquests.

"Your sincere friend and instructor,

"H----."

CHAPTER XVIII.

STILL HUNTING--DARK OBJECTS AGAINST THE HORIZON--THE RED MAN AGAIN--RETREAT TO CAMP--PREPARATIONS FOR DEFENSE--SHAKING HANDS WITH DEATH--MR. COLON'S BUGS--THE EMBa.s.sADORS--A NEW ALARM--MORE INDIANS--TERRIFIC BATTLE BETWEEN p.a.w.nEES AND CHEYENNES--THEIR MODE OF FIGHTING--GOOD HORSEMANSHIP--A SCIENTIFIC PARTY AS s.e.xTONS--DITTO AS SURGEONS--CAMPS OF THE COMBATANTS--STEALING AWAY--AN APPARITION.

Our further conquests for that day, it was decided, could best be effected by still hunting. The guide had suggested that, if we desired to fill our wagon with meat and get back to camp before night, we might profitably adopt the practice of old hunters, who, when they pursue bison, "mean business." The new tactics consisted of infantry evolutions, and required a dismounting of the cavalry. We were to crawl up to the herds, through ravines, and from those ambuscades open fire.

A mile away buffalo were feeding in large numbers, and our men pointed out several swales into which we could sink from the surface of the plains, and, following the winding lines, find cover until emerging among the herd. But while we were still gazing at the latter, sharp and distinct against the northern horizon appeared other objects, evidently mounted men, and men in that direction meant Indians. It is wonderful how quickly one's ardor disappears, when, from being the hunter, he becomes the hunted. Our only desire now was, in Sachem's language, "a hankering arter camp," which we at once proceeded to gratify.

Back again with the remainder of our party, we felt quite safe. Indians of the plains seldom attack an armed body which is prepared for them; and then there had been no recent demonstrations of hostility. On the other hand, no ma.s.sacre had yet occurred upon the frontier which was not unexpected. The whole life of many of these nomads has been a catalogue of surprises. It was Artemus Ward, I think, who knew mules that would be good for weeks, for the sake of getting a better opportunity of kicking a man. These savages will do the same for the sake of killing one.

Many an armed man, fully capable of defending himself, has thus been thrown off his guard, and sent suddenly into eternity. The cunning savage, seeing his foe prepared, approaches with signs of friendship, and cries of "How, how?"--Indian and short for "How are you?" Their extended hands meet, and as the palms touch, the pale-face shakes hands with death; for, while his fingers are held fast in that treacherous clasp, some other savage brains him from behind, or sheaths a knife in his heart, and the betrayed white, jerked forward with a fiendish laugh, kisses the gra.s.s with b.l.o.o.d.y lips. We had been repeatedly warned by our guides that, when in the minority, the only safe way to hold councils with the Indians is at rifle range. Even if bound by treaty, a knowledge that they can take your scalp without losing their own, is like binding a thief with threads of gold: the very power which should restrain, is in itself a temptation.

Our little camp soon bristled all over with defiance, a sort of mammoth porcupine presenting points at every angle for the enemy's consideration. Our animals were put safely under cover among the trees, where they could not be easily stampeded; the wagons were ranged in a crescent, forming excellent defense for our exposed side; and pockets were hurriedly filled with ammunition. As we were thus earnestly preparing for war, an entomological accident occurred. Sachem, while excitedly thrusting a handful of cartridges into Mr. Colon's pockets, suddenly drew back his hand with an expression of alarm, bringing with it a whole a.s.sortment of bugs. One of the pocket-cases of our entomologist had opened, and the inmates, imprisoned but that morning, were now swarming over our fat friend's fingers, and up his arm, which he was shaking vigorously. There they were--rare bugs and plethoric spiders, together with one lively young lizard--all clinging to the limb which had brought them rescue from their cavernous cell with more tenacity than if they had been stuck on with Spalding's glue. Poor Sachem! While he danced and fumed, and gave his opinion of bug-men generally, Mr. Colon cried--"O, my bugs, my beautiful bugs!" and grasped eagerly at his vanishing treasures. Our alderman disengaged himself at length from his noxious visitors, and meanwhile the other members of the party, having provided themselves, poured into the other pocket of the grieved naturalist a further supply of cartridges, thereby utterly annihilating the remainder of his collection.

Our preparations being concluded, and still no signs of the Indians, we sat down to dinner. Shamus was terribly agitated, and the shades of dyspepsia hovered over his cooking; but, although the coffee was muddy and the meat burned, we were in no mood to take exceptions. There was considerable determination visible on the faces of all our party. The red man was getting to be as sore a trouble to us as the black man had been to politicians, and having already lost a day on his account, we were now fully resolved to hold our ground. We had seen the savage in all the terrors of his war-paint, and felt a very comforting degree of a.s.surance that a dozen cool-headed hunters, mostly armed with breech-loaders, possessed the odds.

At length, along the edge of the breaks beyond the Saline, a dark object appeared, followed by another and then another in rapid succession, until forty unmistakable Indians came in sight, and were bearing directly toward us, following the tracks of our wagons. Half a mile off they halted, and then we saw one big fellow ride forward alone. His form seemed a familiar one, and soon it revealed itself as that of our late friend, White Wolf. Now we had, but a few days before, in the s.p.a.ce of four brief hours, concluded at least forty treaties of peace with this chief and his drunken braves; yet, remembering past history, we should have wanted at least as many more treaties, before taking the chances of having one of them kept, and admitting the painted heathens before us to full confidence and fellowship.

As the leader of our party, it devolved upon the Professor to go forward and meet the chief, which he promptly did, taking along our man who was acting in Cody's place as guide, to a.s.sist him in comprehending the savage's wishes. Midway between us the respective emba.s.sadors met. We heard the chief's loud "How, how?" and saw their hand-shaking, and could not help wondering what the Philosopher's cla.s.s would say, could they have beheld their honored tutor officiating as a frontispiece for such a savage background.

White Wolf stated that he had been out after p.a.w.nees; he could not find them, and so "Indian felt heap bad!" Just at this instant a loud, quick cry came from his knot of warriors, who were now manifesting the wildest excitement, lashing up their ponies, stringing their bows, and making other preparations as if for a fight. Without a word, the chief turned and ran for dear life toward his band, while the Professor and our guide wheeled and ran for dear life toward us. Seldom has the man of science made such progress as did the respected leader of our expedition then.

The guide called, "Cover us with your guns!"--a command which we immediately proceeded to obey, evidently to the intense alarm of the Professor, for so completely were they covered, that I doubt if either would have escaped, had we been called upon to fire.

Our first thought had been a suspicion of treachery, but we now saw that the Cheyennes had faced toward the hills, and, following their gaze, we beheld coming down their trail, and upon the tracks of our wagon, another band of mounted Indians. It soon became clear to us that the p.a.w.nees, the Wolf's failure to find whom had made that n.o.ble red man feel "heap bad," were coming to find him. We counted them riding along, twenty-five in all--inferior in numbers, it was true, but superior to the Cheyennes in respect to their arms, so that, upon the whole, the two forces now about to come together were not unevenly matched. The p.a.w.nees live beyond the Platte, and for years have been friendly to the whites, even serving in the wars against the other tribes on several occasions.

What a stir there was in the late peaceful valley! The buffalo that were lately feeding along the brow of the plateau had all fled, and here right before us were sixty-five native Americans, bent upon killing each other off, directly under the eyes of their traditional destroyer, the white man. The Professor said it forcibly suggested to his mind some of the fearful gladiatorial tragedies of antiquity. Sachem responded that he wasn't much of a Roman himself, but he could say that in this show he was very glad we occupied the box-seat, the safest place anywhere around there; and we all decided that it must be a face-to-face fight, in which neither party dare run, as that would be disorganization and destruction.

It was strange to see these wild Ishmaelites of the plains warring against each other. Over the wide territory, broad enough for thousands of such pitiful tribes, they had sought out each other for a b.l.o.o.d.y duel, like two gangs of pirates in combat on mid-ocean; and, like them, if either or both were killed, the world would be all the better for it.

It was clearly what would be called, on Wall street, a "brokers' war,"

in which, when the operators are preying on each other, outsiders are safe.

While we were looking, a wild, disagreeable shout came up from the twenty-five p.a.w.nees, as they charged down into the valley, which was promptly responded to by fierce yells from the forty Cheyennes.

"Let it be our task to bury the dead," said the Professor, looking toward the wagon in which rested his geological spade. "It is extremely problematical whether any of these red men will go out of the valley alive."

And thus another wonderful change had come over the spirit of our dream.

From being a scientific and sporting expedition, we had been suddenly metamorphosed into a gang of s.e.xtons, who, in a valley among the buffaloes, were witnessing an Indian battle, and waiting to bury the slain.

As the p.a.w.nees came down at full gallop, the Cheyennes lashed up their ponies to meet them. Then came the crack of pistols, and a perfect storm of arrows pa.s.sed and crossed each other in mid-air. As the combatants met, we could see them poking lances at each other's ribs for an instant, and then each side retreated to its starting point. Charge first was ended. We gazed over the battle-field to count the dead, but to our surprise none appeared.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BATTLE BETWEEN CHEYENNES AND p.a.w.nEES.]

A few minutes were spent by both parties in a general overhauling of their equipments, and then another charge was made. They rode across each other's fronts and around in circles, firing their arrows and yelling like demons, and occasionally, when two combatants accidentally got close together, prodding away with lances. The oddest part of the whole terrible tragedy to us was that the charges looked, when closely approaching each other, as if they were being made by two riderless bands of wild ponies.

The Indians would lie along that side of their horses which was turned away from the enemy, and fire their pistols and shoot their arrows from under the animals' necks, thus leaving exposed in the saddle only that portion of the savage anatomy which was capable of receiving the largest number of arrows with results the least possibly dangerous. I noticed one fat old fellow whose pony carried him out of battle with two arrows sticking in the portion thus unprotected, like pins in a cushion. He still kept up his yelling, but it struck me that there was a touch of anguish in the tone, and I felt confident that he would not sit down and tell his children of the battle for some time to come.

We saw one exhibition of horsemanship which especially excited our admiration. An arrow struck a Cheyenne on the forehead, glancing off, but stunning him so with its iron point, that, after swaying in the saddle for an instant, he fell to the earth. Another of the tribe, who was following at full speed, leaned toward the ground, and checking his pony but slightly, seized the prostrate warrior by the waistband, and, flinging him across his horse in front of the saddle, rode on out of the battle.