ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY BULLETIN. 



403 



THE BISON CRATES ON THE WAGONS AT CACHE. 



be the "Pullmanites." Smoking would be a 

 solace, but is out of the question. A fire once 

 started in the midst of all that dry hay, fanned 

 by sixty miles of speed, we would be hurled 

 furiously through the darkness of the night a 

 seething mass of flame, for we were then as 

 helpless as the bison themselves. No exit 

 for us except by flying, and no ingress for 

 others, unless they adopted the same means. 

 Very soon we left the yards and dropped into 

 a steady roll, plunging through the night 

 along the banks of the Hudson, occasional 

 glimmers of the water showing through the 

 glass covers of the crated doors. Every swing 

 of the train was echoed by hoarse remon- 

 strances from the bison. 



An ample space at the head of the car had 

 been partially filled with bales of hay, and at 

 ten o'clock we made up our bunk there, as 

 there seemed little else to do. Mr. Rush de- 

 cided to try an upper berth, as he facetiously 

 termed it, on the tops of two of the crates, 

 and by spreading his blankets there upon a 

 pile of hay, composed himself at a right angle 

 to our direction, with true western resig- 

 nation to all sorts and conditions of things. 

 With more hay, Mr, ]\Iitchell and I labor- 

 iouslv constructed on the floor a bed of vol- 

 uminous proportions and turned in. I can 

 boast all my life of having slept within seven- 



eighths of an inch of an American bison. He 

 resented it. and betrayed his feelings by steal- 

 ing our bed ; not all at once, but piecemeal. 

 \"ery dexterously thrusting his flexible tongue 

 through the openings of his crate, he would 

 carefully get a firm hold on a wisp of hay 

 and wait until I slept, then give a good, healthy 

 pull. I could feel that rope of hay start at 

 my feet, and gradually extend itself with a 

 snaky motion to the wisps which curled over 

 the blankets at my head. After six or seven 

 of these alarms, I made a rapid calculation 

 of the number of hours I actually could 

 sleep before striking bottom, and by dividing 

 the pile of hay by his capacity, figured that 

 I could just reach morning by throwing in 

 the gunny-sack-full which we dubbed 

 "pillow." 



We awoke in the morning many miles from 

 Bufi'alo in a raw, cold air. We were thor- 

 oughly employed, caring for stock, until the 

 train rolled into Buft'alo, and it was a great 

 relief to have the animals contentedly feeding, 

 and to find them enduring the journey so well. 



The wisdom of the Director, in making 

 roomy crates, was more than abundantly mani- 

 fest even so early in the journey, for with but 

 one or two exceptions, the animals were lying 

 down. The big bull stubbornly resisted this 

 Continued on page 406. 



