THE DOCTOR'S BUFFALO HUNT. 



37 



viciously dismounted His Grace on the 

 rump of a buffalo. A rumor got abroad 

 that it was a preconcerted affair, but of 

 course it was not. Nevertheless, it created 

 much merriment among the officers. 



Dr. Jessie Maury, of Philadelphia, and 

 W. F. Jessup, also of that city, were guests 

 of Captain Joseph Kerin and me, during 

 the best of one hunting season, and we 

 promised them excellent shooting. Before 

 leaving home, these gentlemen had been 

 impressed with the idea that it was ex- 

 tremely hazardous to hunt among Indians, 

 probably having read exaggerated accounts 

 of massacres in this particular locality, and 

 it was some time before we could calm 

 their fears. 



The day arranged for the first hunt ar- 

 rived, and as a herd of buffalo had been 

 seen South of the fort, we struck out in that 

 direction. Captain Kerin, our guests and I 

 made up the party. We did not think it 

 best to increase the number, as we expected 

 to be gone only a short time and not very 

 far at that. 



On coming to our game, the shooting 

 was good, and the crack of our carbines 

 was usually the death knell of a King of 

 the Plains. 



After killing a number, our horses were 

 too much blown to pursue the herd farther, 

 so we turned back. We were jogging along 

 in good spirits when a huge bull that had 

 strayed from the herd bore down toward us. 

 Before he got within range, however, he 

 swerved off to the right, heading for the 

 Smoky Hill river. 



This was too much for the Doctor, who 

 at once spurred his animal to the chase. 

 Pell mell he went in pursuit, not heeding 

 our cries to desist, as it might lead him into 

 dangerous country. Captain Kerin made 

 an effort to follow him, but soon returned, 

 thinking, as we did, that the Doctor would 

 tire and come back. 



We waited an hour, and then seeing no 

 sign of our friend we cantered back to the 

 Fort, surmising that he would probably 

 take a circuitous route and reach home 

 about as soon as we. On our arrival he 

 had not turned up, and we began to be un- 

 easy. The post cannon was subsequently 

 fired, and detachments were sent in every 

 direction, spending the whole night in 

 search, but nothing could be learned of his 

 whereabouts. 



Toward noon of the following day, while 

 Captain Kerin and I were sitting in front 

 of our quarters, discussing the probability 

 of the Doctor's being taken by Indians, 

 we espied, far out on the plain, a solitary 

 horse. We watched it intently, and as it 

 slowly drew near we saw it was being led 

 by a man — and that man the Doctor. 



A strange procession it was too! The 

 horse was besmeared with mud and go- 



ing on three legs; saddle gone, and what 

 was left of the bridle around his neck. The 

 Doctor, his clothes rent and in tatters, hat 

 gone, face scratched and besmeared with 

 mud, was the saddest-looking, most woe- 

 begone man that could have been found. 

 His story was as follows: 



He had chased the bull for miles, along 

 the Smoky Hill river, never appearing to 

 gain. Night came before he realized where 

 he was or how far he might be from his 

 friends. He was alone and in a wild coun- 

 try. 



By way of explanation, I will say this 

 section of the plains, bordering on the 

 Smoky Hill river, had been a rendezvous 

 for Indians, and many bloody battles be- 

 tween them and the troops had taken place 

 near this stream. At certain times, especi- 

 ally in the hunting season, the Indians in- 

 fested the bottoms in large numbers. This 

 the Doctor was well aware of, and no won- 

 der he felt uneasy. 



He wandered up and down the stream 

 for several miles, in an effort to retrace his 

 steps; but finding it useless, he determined 

 to pass the night to the best advantage. He 

 was reconnoitering, when all at once an- 

 other bull, with a roar, sprang up in front 

 of him. Supposing the whole Cheyenne 

 tribe was about to pounce upon him, he 

 raised his gun, fired, and sprang into the 

 brush. 



Cowering there in the mud, expecting at 

 every rustle of the grass to be scalped, the 

 Doctor lay until, hearing nothing of the 

 redskins, he ventured out and crawled care- 

 fully toward his horse, which was brows- 

 ing near by. He had barely reached what 

 he thought the right location, when he felt 

 something cold and clinging about one of 

 his legs. Supposing he was in the grasp of 

 a rattler, he commenced dancing, but find- 

 ing he could not dislodge his foe, he 

 reached for his revolver, and fired at the 

 reptile, at the risk of shooting off his foot. 

 Then, in desperation, he clutched — the cir- 

 cingle, which had become detached from 

 the saddle, and wrapped around his leg. 



By this time the gallant Doctor was com- 

 pletely exhausted. Sinking down in the 

 grass, he awaited the break of day, which 

 was welcomed with joy. His steed he had 

 shot through the shoulder in the first on- 

 slaught of the imaginary savages. 



This was the Doctor's first and last hunt 

 in the "wild and woolly West." The day 

 following, he prevailed upon us to escort 

 him to Hays City, the nearest railway point, 

 where he took the cars for his home. 



Dr. Maury made many friends in the 

 army, and we were all grieved to hear of 

 his death, some years ago. 



Mr. Jessup, later, moved to Colorado, 

 where, in settling a dispute, he was killed 

 by his adversary. 



