American Big-Game Hunting 
After waiting a couple of days for the river 
to fall, we forded just above the junction of 
the Laramie and the Platte. I came very 
near losing my packhorse and entire outfit, 
one horse being drowned in the treacherous 
quicksands in spite of our strenuous efforts to 
rescue him. At the end of a two weeks’ jour- 
ney through the best game country I ever 
hunted in, we entered the Black Hills proper, 
through) ved) Canon, the place where the 
Metz party and many prospectors ez route to 
the new Eldorado were afterward killed by 
the Indians. Old Joe had several opportuni- 
ties to verify his good opinion of my ability 
to stand fire, as we were attacked by roving 
bands of Sioux at Alkali Springs, Hat Creek, 
and Red Cajfion. Our first action was to erect 
a couple of log cabins and surround them with 
a strong stockade, with a bastion at each cor- 
ner. We spent the entire winter here, feeling 
secure of our ability to stand off any bands of 
Indians that might attempt to dislodge us. 
We were utterly oblivious of the fact that the 
Indians had reported our presence, and that 
the government had sent out troops from both 
Red Cloud and Spotted Tail agencies to bring 
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