The Last of the Plainsmen 



&quot; Frank has rounded up the herd, and is driving it 

 this way. We ll wait,&quot; said Jones. 



Though the buffalo appeared to be moving fast, 

 a long time elapsed before they reached the foot of 

 our outlook. They lumbered along in a compact 

 mass, so dense that I could not count them, but I 

 estimated the number at seventy-five. Frank was 

 riding zigzag behind them, swinging his lariat and 

 yelling. When he espied us he reined in his horse 

 and waited. Then the herd slowed down, halted 

 and began browsing. 



&quot; Look at the cattalo calves,&quot; cried Jones, in 

 ecstatic tones. &quot; See how shy they are, how close 

 they stick to their mothers.&quot; 



The little dark-brown fellows were plainly fright 

 ened. I made several unsuccessful attempts to photo 

 graph them, and gave it up when Jones told me not 

 to ride too close and that it would be better to wait 

 till we had them in the corral. 



He took my camera and instructed me to go on 

 ahead, in the rear of the herd. I heard the click 

 of the instrument as he snapped a picture, and then 

 suddenly heard him shout in alarm: &quot;Look out! 

 look out ! pull your horse ! &quot; 



Thundering hoof-beats pounding the earth accom 

 panied his words. I saw a big bull, with head down, 

 tail raised, charging my horse. He answered Frank s 



44 



