xv THE AMERICAN BUFFALO 287 



I did not miud these remarks ; I had my own reward. The 

 buffaloes on many occasions fed around our camp within 300 or 

 400 yards. We could watch them with the binoculars, and we 

 enjoyed the study of their ways with far greater pleasure than I 

 should have felt in shooting them. 



That big bull which I had extinguished was quite enough to 

 prove all that I required ; it was so heavy that, when Texas Bill 

 arrived, our united efforts could not turn it upon its side. 



There was nothing new in American bisons, unless it was the 

 mercy shown to them on this occasion. That was a grand fellow ; 

 his mighty head is in my hall at this moment, stuffed and set up, 

 as though alive, by that great artist Mr. Kowland Ward, who 

 declared it to be the finest he had seen, huge, black, and shaggy, 

 the dark colour of the head contrasting with the nut-brown of the 

 neck and body. 



It was an interesting post-mortem examination of this bull, and 

 should ladies honour these pages with a perusal, they will of course 

 pass over the descriptions which can so easily be avoided. The 

 577 solid bullet, with a 6-dram charge of powder, had entered 

 about 2 inches upon the left of the tail-root. This had passed 

 through the pelvis, which was fractured, and had occasioned the 

 paralysis of the hind legs. The bullet then perforated the 

 intestines, passed through the paunch and lungs, and, having 

 traversed the entire cavity of the body, it was found imbedded in 

 the fleshy mass of the neck. 



I can only ask those persons who patronise the hollow Express 

 bullet Where would that wretched projectile have been after 

 striking such a bone as the pelvis of a bull bison 1 It would never 

 have broken such a bone, but it would have smashed into a hundred 

 fragments, as though it had struck an iron target ; there would 

 have been an end to it ; the buffalo would have gone on, not much 

 the worse for the encounter. 



It was very interesting to watch these bisons, as they almost 

 daily appeared, either near the camp, or while I was out shooting. 

 Frequently I saw them beneath me, when upon a cliff I was 

 looking for big horns (mountain sheep) ; at other times I have 

 come upon them suddenly, when they have jumped up from a 

 lower terrace, as I descended the mountain side, but upon no 

 occasion would I fire at them, as we always had plenty of venison 

 in camp and I did not want them. 



My fine young fellow Texas Bill was an expert hand at the 

 lasso, and he captured a cow upon one occasion, but she was too 

 strong for him to manage single-handed. I do not consider that 



