American Big-Game Hunting 



After waiting a couple of days for the river 

 to fall, we forded just above the junction of 

 the Laramie and the Platte. I came very 

 near losing my packhorse and entire outfit, 

 one horse being drowned in the treacherous 

 quicksands in spite of our strenuous efforts to 

 rescue him. At the end of a two weeks' jour- 

 ney through the best game country I ever 

 hunted in, we entered the Black Hills proper, 

 through Red Canon, the place where the 

 Metz party and many prospectors en route to 

 the new Eldorado were afterward killed by 

 the Indians. Old Joe had several opportuni- 

 ties to verify his good opinion of my ability 

 to stand fire, as we were attacked by roving 

 bands of Sioux at Alkali Springs, Hat Creek, 

 and Red Canon. Our first action was to erect 

 a couple of log cabins and surround them with 

 a strong stockade, with a bastion at each cor- 

 ner. We spent the entire winter here, feeling 

 secure of our ability to stand off any bands of 

 Indians that might attempt to dislodge us. 

 We were utterly oblivious of the fact that the 

 Indians had reported our presence, and that 

 the government had sent out troops from both 

 Red Cloud and Spotted Tail agencies to bring 



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