538 The Book of Woodcraft 



happened to notice I recognized Buffalo Hump, Dull 

 Knife's son. 



He lay on his back, with arms extenaed and face up- 

 turned. In his right hand he held a small knife, a knife worn 

 by years and years of use from the useful proportions of a 

 butcher knife until the blade was no more than one quarter 

 of an inch wide at the hilt, a knife descended to domestic 

 use by the squaws as an awl in sewing moccasins, and yet 

 the only weapon this magnificent warrior could command 

 in this his last fight for freedom ! 



As I sat on my horse looking down at Buffalo Hump, 

 believing him dead, the picture rose in my mind of the 

 council in which he had stalked from end to end of the 

 barrack, burning with an anger and hatred which threat- 

 ened even then and there to break out into violence, when 

 suddenly he rose to a sitting position and aimed a fierce 

 blow at my leg with his knife. Instinctively, as he rose, I 

 spurred my horse out of his reach and jerked my pistol, 

 but before I could use it he fell back and lay still — dead. 



So died Buffalo Hump, a warrior capable, with half a 

 chance, of making martial history worthy even of his 

 doughty old father. 



Immediately on hearing the fire, Vroom, at Camp Canby, 

 had thrown two troops in skirmish order across the valley to 

 prevent escape to the east, and hurried into Robinson him- 

 self at the head of a third troop. 



Already mounted, Vroom was the first to overtake and 

 re-engage the flying Cheyennes, whose knowledge of the 

 geography of the country proved remarkable. They had 

 selected a high bluff two miles west of the post as their 

 means of escape, its summit inaccessible to horsemen for 

 more than six miles from the point of their ascent. 



