American Big-Game Hunting 



down the creek, toss her tail up, and dart into 

 the bushes. Wondering what could have 

 so startled her, I cautiously crept from out 

 the coulee by which I was approaching her, 

 and to my surprise saw, a couple of hundred 

 yards still further down the creek, an Indian 

 on foot. He crossed fearlessly, almost care- 

 lessly, and walked up on to a high point of 

 ground jutting out into the valley or creek 

 bottom he had just crossed. After a swift 

 glance up and down the creek he turned, 

 parted the bushes in front of him, and dis- 

 appeared. I readily recognized him even at 

 that distance as an Ogallala Sioux. After 

 waiting probably ten minutes to assure my- 

 self there were no others with him, knowing 

 it was seldom if ever they are seen alone on 

 foot, I proceeded down the creek, intending 

 to learn if he was heading in the direction 

 of the stockade. 



When just at the identical spot where I had 

 last seen the Indian, an unearthly screech 

 sounded in the chaparral a few feet in front 

 of me, followed instantly by the bang of a 

 gun, and I felt a blow on my side which nearly 

 turned me around. What thoughts chased 



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