298 BUFFALO LAND. 



volver, which she fired occasionally, but with un- 

 certain aim, one of the bullets indeed whistling our 

 way. The chase constituted the excitement that she 

 sought, and the pistol was little more than a spur to 

 urge it on. 



" That 's Ann, poor P 's wife," said our guide. 

 " Crazy since the Indians killed her husband. He 

 was a contractor on the railroad ; his camp used to 

 be just above Hays. She lives in the old "dug-out" 

 on the line yet, and spends half her time chasing 

 buffalo. She never kills none, but that isn't what 

 she is after. She wants to be moving, and just as 

 wild as she can; it sort o' relieves her mind." 



The huntress had seen our outfit, and rode toward 

 us. The face w r as a very plain one, with a vacant 

 yet anxious expression, and the tightly-drawn skin 

 seeming scarcely to cover the jaw-bones. She halted 

 before us, and commenced conversation at once. 



" Good day, gentlemen." 



" Good day, madam." 



" She always tells her story to every body," mut- 

 tered the guide in a low voice. 



" Have you seen any Cheyennes hereabouts, gen- 

 tlemen? I sighted a party this morning, and you 

 ought to have seen them run. Raven Dick, here, 

 put his best foot foremost, but they shook him out of 

 sight in a ravine. Have n't any thing better to do, 

 friends, and so I 'm riding down some buffalo." 



We could easily understand why superstitious 

 savages should run when a maniac female of such 

 dismal aspect flitted along their' trail. 



"Out from Hays, sirs?" she continued, after a 



