American Big-Game Hunting 
justly celebrated. The wind blew with a vio- 
lence such as I had never before experienced, 
the air was filled with drifting snow, and the 
temperature was in the neighborhood of zero. 
About the break of dawn I was awakened 
by my servant, who said tome: “Lieutenant, 
the wind blew your back gate open last 
night, and a buffalo has come in and taken 
refuge under the shelter of the fence.” 
It was only necessary for me to raise 
myself in bed and look out of the window, 
which was at its foot, to verify this fact. I 
directed that my gun and a few cartridges 
should be brought me, and while my servant 
held up the window, I, still lying in bed, gave 
this solitary old bull a broadside at fifty yards 
range. At the salutation, he started out 
through the gate, and before I could reload, 
was out of sight behind the fence, so I rolled 
over to resume my morning’s nap. 
Two or three hours later, word was brought 
me that I had killed the buffalo, and that his 
body was lying about two hundred yards 
back on the plain. I went out to him and 
took his tongue as my reward. Investigation 
showed that I had shot him through the 
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