162 TEN DAYS IN MONTANA. 



said we could do it, and we simply said we would go where- 

 ever he told us to go. 



At this juncture we sighted a herd of about two hundred 

 head of buffaloes, grazing on the creek bottom two miles 

 ahead in the direct line of our march, and started for them. 

 The descent into the valley was comparatively easy, the worst 

 portion of the bad lands lying beyond the creek. Still we 

 had to pick our route very cautiously, and our progress was 

 slow and tedious. Finally we reached a point as near the 

 herd as we could drive the teams, and dismounted. Unfor- 

 tunately we were on the windward side of the herd, and as a 

 broad level plateau stretched away beyond them it was im- 

 possible for us to approach them from the leeward. A few of 

 our party succeeded in getting within range, however, and 

 gave them a volley. Then were we treated to a spectacle 

 that only falls to the lot of a professional plainsman to witness 

 once in a lifetime. Perhaps not one in ten thousand who go 

 from the States for a buffalo hunt would ever see it. It is a 

 thing we have read of in our boyhood days ; a thing we have 

 seen delineated on canvas, or on steel, but we never hoped to 

 see it enacted in real life. 



At the first volley the herd stampeded. Not only did the 

 reports of our rifles alarm them but they winded us at the 

 same time, and, as they started to move, our horsemen charged 

 them, firing as they ran. The consternation of the herd was 

 complete. They took a westerly course over what appeared 

 to be a perfectly level stretch of ground for two miles down 

 the valley. Little did they expect to meet with any obstacle 

 to their flight. Like chaff before a gale, they fairly flew. 

 Only the fleetest horse could successfully cope with them in 

 speed. They had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile just far 

 enough to become thoroughly warmed to the flight their 

 excitement at fever heat when suddenly the leaders of the 



