American Big-Game Hunting 
down the creek, toss her tail up, and dart into 
the bushes. Wondering what could have 
so startled her, I cautiously crept from out 
the coulée by which I was approaching her, 
and to my surprise saw, a couple of hundred 
yards still further down the creek, an Indian 
on foot. He crossed fearlessly, almost care- 
lessly, and walked up on to a high point of 
ground jutting out into the valley or creek 
bottom he had just crossed. After a swift 
glance up and down the creek he turned, 
parted the bushes in front of him, and dis- 
appeared. I readily recognized him even at 
that distance as an Ogallala Sioux. After 
waiting probably ten minutes to assure my- 
self there were no others with him, knowing 
it was seldom if ever they are seen alone on 
foot, I proceeded down the creek, intending 
to learn if he was heading in the direction 
of the stockade. 
When just at the identical spot where I had 
last seen the Indian, an unearthly screech 
sounded in the chaparral a few feet in front 
of me, followed instantly by the bang of a 
gun, and I felt a blow on my side which nearly 
turned me around. What thoughts chased 
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