On the Little Missouri 



The last shot I got was when I was out with 

 Joe Ferris, in whose company I had killed my 

 first buffalo, just thirteen years before, and not 

 very far from this same spot. We had seen 

 two or three bands that morning, and in each 

 case, after a couple of hours of useless effort, I 

 failed to get near enough. At last, toward 

 mid-day, after riding and tramping over a vast 

 extent of broken sun-scorched country, we got 

 within range of a small band lying down in a 

 little cup-shaped hollow in the middle of a 

 great flat. I did not have a close shot, for 

 they were running about i8o yards off. The 

 buck was rearmost, and at him I aimed; the 

 bullet struck him in the flank, coming out of 

 the opposite shoulder, and he fell in his next 

 bound. As we stood over him, Joe shook his 

 head, and said, ** I guess that little .30-30 is the 

 ace " ; and I told him I guessed so to. 



Beside antelope, the only wild beasts of any 

 size which are still left on the plains anywhere 

 near the Little Missouri are wolves and coyotes. 

 Coyotes are more or less plentiful everywhere 

 in thinly settled districts. They are not dan- 

 gerous to horses or cattle, but they will snap up 

 lambs, young pigs, cats, and hens, and if very 

 hungry several often combine to attack a young 



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