us stood the missing horses. They never noticed us, but were standing
at attention, cautiously sniffing the early morning air, on which was
borne to them the scent of something they feared. On reaching them,
their fear seemed not the least appeased, and my partner and I had our
curiosity sufficiently aroused to ride forward to the cause of their
alarm. As we rounded the spur of the hill, there in plain view grazed
a band of about twenty buffalo. We were almost as excited as the
horses over the discovery. By dropping back and keeping the hill
between us and them, then dismounting and leaving our horses, we
thought we could reach the apex of the hill. It was but a small
elevation, and from its summit we secured a splendid view of the
animals, now less than three hundred yards distant. Flattening
ourselves out, we spent several minutes watching the shaggy animals as
they grazed leisurely forward, while several calves in the bunch
gamboled around their mothers. A buffalo calf, I had always heard,
made delicious veal, and as we had had no fresh meat since we had
started, I proposed to Priest that we get one. He suggested trying our
ropes, for if we could ever get within effective six-shooter range, a
rope was much the surest. Certainly such cumbrous, awkward looking
animals, he said, could be no match for our Texas horses. We
accordingly dropped back off the hill to our saddle stock, when Priest
said that if he only had a certain horse of his out of the band we had
been trailing he would promise me buffalo veal if he had to follow
them to the Pan-handle. It took us but a few minutes to return to our
horses, round them in, and secure the particular horse he wanted. I
was riding my Nigger Boy, my regular night horse, and as only one of
my mount was in this bunch,--a good horse, but sluggish,--I concluded
to give my black a trial, not depending on his speed so much as his
staying qualities. It took but a minute for The Rebel to shift his
saddle from one horse to another, when he started around to the south,