270 BUFFALO LAND. 



tribes, they had sought out each other for a bloody 

 duel, like two gangs of pirates in combat on mid- 

 ocean ; and, like them, if either or both were killed, 

 the world would be all the better for it. It was 

 clearly what would be called, on Wall street, a 

 "brokers' war," in which, when the operators are 

 preying on each other, outsiders are safe. 



While we were looking, a wild, disagreeable shout 

 came up from the twenty-five Pawnees, as they 

 charged down into the valley, which was promptly 

 responded to by fierce yells from the forty Cheyennes. 



"Let it be our task to bury the dead," said the 

 Professor, looking toward the wagon in which rested 

 his geological spade. " It is extremely problematical 

 whether any of these red men will go out of the val- 

 ley alive." 



And thus another wonderful change had come over 

 the spirit of our dream. From being a scientific and 

 sporting expedition, we had been suddenly meta- 

 morphosed into a gang of sextons, who, in a valley 

 among the buffaloes, were witnessing an Indian bat- 

 tle, and waiting to bury the slain. 



As the Pawnees came down at full gallop, the 

 Cheyennes lashed up their ponies to meet them. 

 Then came the crack of pistols, and a perfect storm 

 of arrows passed and crossed each other in mid-air. 

 As the combatants met, we could see them poking 

 lances at each other's ribs for an instant, and then 

 each side retreated to its starting point. Charge first 

 was ended. We gazed over the battle-field to count 

 the dead, but to our surprise none appeared. 



A few minutes were spent by both parties in a 



