I don t think there was one that made an escape. The Indians cut 
off their hams and saddles, and left the remainder on the ground for 
the coyotes. This killing took place about noon; we went to camp and 
had lunch, then we took our pack ponies and went after the buffalo 
which we brought back to our camp and decided to remain there until 
morning, not to hunt buffalo as we had as many as we wanted. 
After breakfast the next morning, we lashed the meat to the pack 
ponies and detailed two Indians to drive them into the village; the rest 
of us separated in pairs to hunt as we rode home. There were four 
deer and three antelope killed by the bunch as we rode to the village. 
I had been hunting and trapping for about eight months which 
is a long time at one stretch; like everything else, it will eventually 
become monotonous and lose its kick. 
Bill and I stayed with the Delawares for over a month, at which 
time we rode over a great deal of the Camanche country. We were 
also in the Kiwah Reservation, also the Cheyenne and Arapahos, but 
only a few days at a time. They were all blanket tribes and we did 
not stay in their villages as Bill could not speak their languages. 
They were dirty, tough looking Indians, and although they seemed to 
be friendly enough, it was like meeting a cow you could not talk to. 
We. made several deer hunts while with the Delawares, and sev¬ 
eral antelope hunts as well. This was new and had real pen in it. 
One day a bunch of us went to hunt antelope, and the one that killed 
the most antelope was to win a purse of twenty dollars. Of course 
I didn’t have any hopes of winning the purse as I had never before 
hunted antelope, but I was willing to try for the sport of the thing. 
We were honored by having old Bull Wilson, the chief, and Jim Bob, 
second chief, and Pooler, the interpreter,, as well as Red Blanket, 
who was supposed to be the best hunter in camp, with us. Every¬ 
thing was gotten in shipshape; the squaws had cooked plenty of grub, 
and the ponies were all fed and well rested, and the twenty dollars 
looked good even to the chiefs. Eighteen of us entered the contest, 
and getting an early start, we rode about twenty-five miles to a high 
ridge country where the antelopes were plentiful. We struck camp 
and each Indian used his saddle for a pillow, and rolled up in his 
blankets. As the wild turkeys were still gobbling, they answered the 
purpose of an alarm clock, as they woke us about an hour before 
daybreak. Everybody was up and ready for the antelope hunt. Bill 
and I cast our lots together, and hunted together, working to one and 
another’s advantage all we could. 
The country was alive with antelope and deer. We hunted horse¬ 
back only at times; usually we could take it on foot, the better to 
slip up on them. It wasn’t long before we could hear a shot every 
once in a while, and as Bill and I were still together, we had stopped 
to lay our plans for the hunt when all at once here came six antelope 
running for dear life; we aimed our guns at the bunch, and as we 
begun to count up we had killed four. I didn’t know how many of 
the four I had killed, and Bill didn’t either. We swung the four 
antelope and proceeded to hunt. We caught glimpses of antelope in 
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