The Range 



them. The Indians call the buffalo leader the Wee- 

 tah, the master of the herd. It was sure death to 

 go near this one. So I shipped in another Weetah, 

 hoping that he might whip some of the fight out of 

 old Manitou, the Mighty. They came together head 

 on, like a railway collision, and ripped up over a 

 square mile of landscape, fighting till night came on, 

 and then on into the night. 



u I jumped into the field with them, chasing them 

 with my biograph, getting a series of moving pictures 

 of that bullfight which was sure the real thing. It 

 was a ticklish thing to do, though knowing that 

 neither bull dared take his eyes off his adversary for 

 a second, I felt reasonably safe. The old Weetah 

 beat the new champion out that night, but the next 

 morning they were at it again, and the new buffalo 

 finally whipped the old one into submission. Since 

 then his spirit has remained broken, and even a child 

 can approach him safely but the new Weetah is in 

 turn a holy terror. 



&quot; To handle buffalo, elk and bear, you must get 

 into sympathy with their methods of reasoning. No 

 tenderfoot stands any show, even with the tame 

 animals of the Yellowstone.&quot; 



The old buffalo hunter s lips were no longer 

 locked. One after another he told reminiscences of 

 his eventful life, in a simple manner; yet so vivid and 



51 



