14 HUNTING THE GRISLY. 



as much startled by a visit of a different kind. 

 They were just finishing supper when an 

 Indian stalked suddenly and silently out of 

 the surrounding darkness, squatted down in 

 the circle of firelight, remarked gravely, " Me 

 Tonk," and began helping himself from the 

 stew. He belonged to the friendly tribe of 

 Tonkaways, so his hosts speedily recovered 

 their equanimity ; as for him, he had never 

 lost his, and he sat eating by the fire until 

 there was literally nothing left to eat. The 

 panic caused by his appearance was natural ; 

 for at that time the Comanches were a scourge 

 to the Buffalo-hunters, ambushing them and 

 raiding their camps ; and several bloody fights 

 had taken place. 



Their camp had been pitched near a deep 

 pool or water-hole. On both sides the bluffs 

 rose like walls, and where they had crumbled 

 and lost their sheerness, the vast buffalo herds, 

 passing and repassing for countless genera- 

 tions, had worn furrowed trails so deep that the 

 backs of the beasts were but little above the 

 surrounding soil. In the bottom, and in 

 places along the crests of the cliffs that 

 hemmed in the canyon-like valley, there 

 were groves of tangled trees, tenanted by great 

 flocks of wild turkeys. Once my brother made 

 two really remarkable shots at a pair of these 

 great birds. It was at dusk, and they were 

 flying directly overhead from one cliff to the 

 other. He had in his hand a thirty-eight cali- 

 bre Ballard rifle, and, as the gobblers winged 

 their way heavily by, he brought both down 



