82 



RECREATION 



The last time these Indians were ever sent 

 out, in what was then the Indian Territory, 

 on a winter's hunt, was in 1878. The buffalo 

 had got to be so scarce then that but a few 

 of them could be found, and the Indians came 

 near starving. That winter the cavalry troop 

 that I then belonged to was sent out with 

 these Indians to relieve them, and we made 

 our camp on Wolf creek, west of Fort Sup- 

 ply, about where the eastern end of what is 

 now Beaver County, Oklahoma. 



A few days before New Year's Day I was 

 sent down to Supply with a dispatch to be 

 sent by telegraph to Washington, asking for 

 permission to bring all these Indians in as 

 they were starving. On getting to Supply, I 

 found that a dispatch was here already, tell- 

 ing us to bring them in. I took it back with 

 me next day, going through to camp, sixty 

 miles in less than a day. The captain now 

 asked me to start early next morning and 

 hunt up all the Indians I could find to the 

 west of us, and turn them back home. He 

 wanted me to go, because I knew every foot 

 of that country and would not get lost; few 

 of the men here knew so much about it. 



I took with me a young Northern Chey- 

 enne Indian, with whose band I had camped. 

 He spoke very fair English, and I wanted 

 him to act as interpreter between me and 

 the Cheyennes and Arapahoes ; I could talk 

 to the Comanches myself ; I spoke their lan- 

 guage, and these three tribes and that of the 

 Pawnees, who most of them speak English, 

 were about all the Indians I could find out 

 here. 



I carried a Springfield, 45-70 rifle. Our 

 troop had the Springfield carbine, but I had 

 managed to get a rifle. I had a Marlin of 

 my own, but this captain would not let me 

 carry it ; he did let me carry a Springfield, 

 though. 



We had been out now for several days, 

 and had found and sent in a number of small 

 bands of Indians. I was now going to the 

 Canadian river to hunt up the Pawnees, that 

 I knew were on it somewhere, and I was 

 pushing the horses to get to the river be- 

 fore night. I was still about ten miles to the 

 north of it, and was riding across a wide 

 prairie that had been burned over not long 

 ago. The new grass had just begun to 

 soring up when my Indian suddenly pulled 

 his horse up short, and pointing to the south, 

 says, " Look ! Heap antelope ! " I saw 

 them, about one thousand yards away, on 

 the side of a high roll in the prairie, but had 

 not the grass been burned off, neither I nor 

 the Indian might have seen them. They 

 showed quite plain now with this black soil 

 for a background, and they were all in a 

 bunch eating the new grass. 



Jumping off my horse, I got my rifle off 

 the saddle, then, going to the front, raised 

 the sight to nine hundred yards, and knelt 



down to take careful aim ; if I hit one it 

 would be by accident. Had I my Marlin 

 here, though, there would be no accident 

 about it. The Indian spoke now : "Don't 

 shoot; no good; you can't hit; too far." 



"You wait," I told him, "mebbe so I can 

 hit." Then, taking careful aim, I fired, and 

 the whole bunch after running around for a 

 minute, made off. 



"You get one," the Indian told me. I 

 could not see at first whether I had got one 

 or not, but looking carefully to where the 

 Indian pointed, I saw that one, at least, was 

 down. 



The Indian now wanted to go and get him. 

 "No," I told him. "You stop here until I 

 call you. I want to see how far." 



We had been drilled to estimate distances, 

 and I could guess any distance up to fifteen 

 hundred yards very closely — I could guess 

 one or two hundred yards almost as closely 

 as with a tape line'. 



I rode off a hundred yards, then sent the 

 Indian to it ; then rode the next hundred and 

 called him there, and kept on until I had 

 eight hundred yards marked off. The ante- 

 lope lay sixty-five yards still beyond that. 



The Indian, coming up now, asks, "How 

 much?" "Mebbe to nine hundred yards," I 

 told him. Then looking back to where we 

 had started from, and next looking at my 

 rifle, he asks, "How far that gun shoot?" 



"Mebbe to two miles and a half," I told 

 him. It would not carry quite that far, but 

 these Northern Cheyennes, the tribe that he 

 belonged to, had a habit of breaking our 

 every once in twenty years. They had left 

 and had gone clean across Kansas the year 

 before this and might go again. I wanted to 

 impress this fellow with the idea that I could 

 reach him several miles away if he went on 

 the war path next time. He would, no doubt, 

 tell his friends all about this shot on his 

 return. 



My ball had hit the antelope in the flank, 

 and was still in him somewhere. I did not 

 open him to look for it ; I had not time. I 

 cut off the hind quarters to take along with 

 us. The Indian wanted to take all of him; 

 he could eat a heap, he said. So could I. 

 But I had taken an extra horse with me to 

 pack instead of a mule — the horse would 

 not give me the same trouble that a mule 

 would giye — and I did not want to load 

 him too heavily — he had a fair load on him 

 now. 



The sun was getting low now, and I still 

 had a number of miles to go to get to the 

 river, and after getting within half a mile of 

 it I might have to go several miles up or 

 down outside of the canyon it flows through, 

 before I could get down to the river itself. 

 I did not have to do that, though, as it after- 

 ward turned out, but managed to strike the 

 canyon at the only place a horse could get 



