TWENTY YEARS IN THE ROCKIES. 155 



mount the pony and give chase, or to mount and run them 

 first. 



My horse was a strange one to me as I had recently 

 bought him. I recalled some of the great and splendid 

 qualities which had been ascribed to him, but I did not be- 

 lieve much in them, so I decided to chase the buffaloes in the 

 start as I knew I could shoot from his back. I placed the 

 remaining cartridges in the front of my belt, readjusted my 

 knife, mounted and started slowly toward the herd. I had 

 gone about half the distance before they seemed to notice 

 me, then an old bull gave a snort, threw up his tail, and 

 started off like the wind. 



The country was a high tableland about five miles wide 

 between Razor Creek and the Musselshell River. The 

 stampede of the immense herd made the ground shake. The 

 earth was black before me, and the erected tails looked like 

 the guns of an army. My horse gave one snort and darted 

 toward the herd like an eagle on the wing. He came along- 

 side an old bull almost instantly. In my excitement I 

 dropped my strap and gave the bull a shot through the lungs, 

 then another and again a third, when he gave a lunge and 

 fell among his comrades, to be trampled into pieces. 



The dust was flying like a cloud, and the sound of the 

 galloping hoofs almost deafened me, but I caught sight of a 

 fine, black cow, gave her a shot which broke her back, and 

 down she went among the flying drove. I singled out a 

 fine, two-year-old cow, drove two balls through her and she 

 disappeared. I shot two calves and a four-year-old cow, 

 and then found my cartridges were gone from the magazine. 

 I soon filled it again,, but only with hard work and by losing 

 as many as I put in the gun. I was now completely sur- 

 rounded by the herd and the dust was suffocating. My 

 horse showed signs of giving out, so I took my gun in one 



