36 PRAIRIE AND FOREST. 
is now to be lost. These animals, unwieldy as they appear, 
for a mile or so are wonderfully swift, and, if they should 
gain rough ground, will beat an indifferent horse. Sitting 
well down in their saddles, nags in hand, at a grass-country 
speed, both push for the sleekest and squarest-looking cows 
they can mark. The pace commences to tell; the distance 
that separates sportsman from quarry is rapidly diminish- 
ing —a few strides more, and one ranges alongside; the 
heavy pistol, which has till now been secure in the holster, 
is taken in the right hand, its barrel depressed; low down, 
and eight or ten inches behind the shoulder, is the spot, if 
shooting forward. A puff of smoke is seen, followed by a 
report. The coup de grace has been administered by a 
master-hand; for the huge animal loses the power of its 
fore-feet, comes down on its shoulders and head, and naught 
of life is left but a few spasmodic struggles. But where 
are the hunters? Look well among the retreating herd, 
and you may occasionally catch a glimpse of their hunting- 
shirts. A few moments more, and another shot is fired— 
this time not so successfully. Again the report of fire-arms; 
still the quarry retains her legs, but blood is already pour- 
ing from her nose, an indication that surely tells of speedy 
demise; so stop, let the poor creature die in peace; aggra- 
vate not her last moments. 
The scene which I have tried to describe took place 
about ten miles to the south side of the Yellowstone Riv- 
er, An old and tried friend from Germany was my com- 
panion, and on this occasion we each killed two cows. 
Double this number, or even more, could have been shot 
without trouble; but the requisite amount of beef had been 
obtained, and I was jealous of husbanding the strength of 
my horse, for then, as now, but little reliance could be 
placed on the professed peaceful intentions of the Indians. 
The range of the buffalo, I have said, was at one period 
