A Buffalo Story 



The next year — the winter of '72 and 

 '7^ — this herd, during its southward migra- 

 tion, extended as far west as Fort Lyon, or 

 some seventy miles farther west than its route 

 of previous years. It was probably driven to 

 this course by the extension westward of set- 

 tlements in Kansas and Nebraska. This was 

 the last great migration of the southern herd 

 of buffalo. Millions and millions were killed 

 this season, and their hides and tongues 

 shipped east over the Union Pacific, Kansas 

 Pacific, and Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe 

 railroads, and this leads me to the short 

 story I have to tell. 



The winter had been especially severe. 

 The entire country north of the Arkansas 

 valley was deeply covered with snow, while 

 the valley itself was comparatively open. 

 The quarters in which I lived faced the 

 south. The yard in the rear of my house 

 was inclosed by a board fence about seven 

 feet high, and a wide gate afforded means 

 for entrance. 



One night, in the late winter, or early 

 spring, the region was visited by one of those 

 terrific storms for which this section is so 



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