MY FIRST ADVENTURE WITH A BUFFALO. 



C. B. R., M. D. 



In 1869 I had charge of a wagon train on 

 the plains, freighting between Sheridan and 

 Kit Carson, in Western Kansas, to Santa 

 Fe, Fort Union, Las Vegas, Albuquerqe 

 and all points in New Mexico and lower 

 Colorado.. Sheridan and Kit Carson were 

 then the Western termini of the Kansas 

 Pacific Railroad. I had a light rifle, made 

 by Mr. Ben Mills, of Harrodsburg, Ky., for 

 a long range target gun. It was on the 

 plan of the old Maynard rifle and was a 

 fine shooter. I had killed many deer and 

 antelope with it, but had no experience 

 with buffalo. 



On the trip from our home ranch on the 

 La Cimaron Saco (Dry Cimaron), New 

 Mexico, where we had been resting a few 

 weeks, to the railroad terminus, we went 

 across the country in a line from the Dry 

 Cimaron by way of Fort Lyon, Colorado, 

 were caught in a fearful snow storm and 

 had to camp until it passed. It lasted sev- 

 eral days and nights, leaving at least 2 

 feet of snow and still cloudy weather. As 

 a natural consequence, we got lost. For 3 

 days we wandered around with 16 4 to 6 

 mule wagons. Every fellow thought he 

 knew the way to Fort Lyon. To make 

 things lively 50 or 60 Indians got after us.. 

 They were afraid to charge, as we were 

 about 25 in number and well armed. They 

 would run up toward us, wave their blan- 

 kets at us, make all kinds of noises 

 and keep us scared out of our senses most 

 of the time. To add to our misery, our pro- 

 visions gave out.. We had nothing for sev- 

 eral days but corn meal and coffee ; nothing 

 to season our bread, nothing to go in the 

 meal but salt. We were a hungry crowd. 

 Toward evening of the fourth day we saw 

 a little bunch of buffalo about a mile away, 

 and everybody wanted buffalo beef; but no 

 one was brave enough to make the attempt 

 to kill one for fear of the Indians. Fortu- 

 nately the game was on good ground for a 

 hunter to get near enough for a shot. I, 

 being wagon boss, finally told the men I 



would slip around and shoot one if they 

 would come to my assistance in case the In- 

 dians attempted to cut me off from the 

 train. All promised, and I knew some of 

 them were brave men, for I had been 

 through Indian scares and races with them 

 before. Arming myself well I started after 

 meat. I got close to the buffalo and select- 

 ed a large dark one, the dark ones being al- 

 ways the fattest. I made a good shot at a 

 young cow. When the bullet struck her she 

 saw the smoke of my gun and my head and 

 shoulders above a buffalo wallow, and came 

 at me full tilt. I had not time to load my 

 rifle. I held on to it, however, but drew an 

 old Remington .44 cap and ball revolver 

 and shot her in the face several times, 

 jumping around and running toward the 

 wagon every time I had a chance. Finally 

 I made a run, thinking I could beat her 

 through the deep snow, but she got so near 

 me she blew blood from her nostrils all over 

 me. I thought I was gone. I tried to pray, 

 but was so badly scared I could not think 

 what to say. I finally said "Amen," for I 

 thought it was Amen time with me. I 

 yelled "Amen" at every jump until the poor 

 thing came down on her haunches and then 

 rolled over dead. The rifle bullet had gone 

 through her lungs and she ran me until 

 she died from loss of blood. I was so badly 

 scared I did not once think of Indians and 

 could hardly walk, but trudged on slowly 

 toward the wagons that were coming to me. 

 When I met the men they asked me if I 

 were not going to help skin the game,. I 

 said : 



"No, I have furnished the meat, and I 

 think you can afford to skin and cook it." 



Talk of buck ague ! Nothing ever 

 made me tremble so much as that buffalo, 

 except a silvertip, a few years later, of 

 which I will write you. That night we had a 

 feast ; corn bread made with melted snow 

 and salt, black coffee and fried buffalo meat. 

 Several of the boys ate so much they were 

 sick all night. 



TWO CURES. 



JOHN L. WOODBURY. 



Two prescriptions he got for poor shooting, 

 From a doctor, wise, and a friend. 



"Smoke less," read the doctor's instruction; 

 "Smokeless" was the other's trend. 

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