In Buffalo Days 



ting the spurs well in, galloped up the ravine 

 and up on the flat; and as we came into view, 

 the nearest buffalo, as if propelled by a 

 huge spring, were on their feet, and, with 

 a second's pause to look, dashed away to the 

 north. Scattered over the flat were fifty or 

 seventy-five buffalo, all of which, by the time 

 we had glanced over the field, were off, with 

 heads bending low to the ground, and short, 

 spiky tails stretched out behind. We were 

 up even with the last of the cows, and our 

 horses were running easily and seemed to 

 have plenty of reserve power. Charley, who 

 was a little ahead of me, called back: "They 

 will cross the trail about a mile north of here. 

 Kill a couple when we get to it." I nodded, 

 and we went on. The herd raced forward 

 over the rolling hills, and in what seemed a 

 very short time we rushed down a long slope 

 on to a wide flat, in which was a prairie-dog 

 town of considerable extent. We were on 

 the very heels of the herd, and in a cloud of 

 dust kicked up by their rapid flight. To see 

 the ground ahead was impossible. We could 

 only trust to our horses and our good luck to 

 save us from falling. Our animals were doing 



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