the seasons, had driven countless numbers of that animal across our
pathway. There were days and days that we were never out of sight of
the feeding myriads of these shaggy brutes, and at night they became
a menace to our sleeping herd. During the day, when the cattle were
strung out in trail formation, we had difficulty in keeping the two
species separated, but we shelled the buffalo right and left and moved
forward. Frequently, when they occupied the country ahead of us,
several men rode forward and scattered them on either hand until a
right of way was effected for the cattle to pass. While they remained
with us we killed our daily meat from their numbers, and several of
the boys secured fine robes. They were very gentle, but when occasion
required could give a horse a good race, bouncing along, lacking grace
in flight.

Our cook was a negro. One day as we were nearing Buffalo Gap, a
number of big bulls, attracted by the covered wagon, approached the
commissary, the canvas sheet of which shone like a white flag. The
wagon was some distance in the rear, and as the buffalo began to
approach it they would scare and circle around, but constantly coming
nearer the object of their curiosity. The darky finally became alarmed
for fear they would gore his oxen, and unearthed an old Creedmoor
rifle which he carried in the wagon. The gun could be heard for miles,
and when the cook opened on the playful denizens of the plain, a
number of us hurried back, supposing it was an Indian attack. When
within a quarter-mile of the wagon and the situation became clear, we
took it more leisurely, but the fusillade never ceased until we rode
up and it dawned on the darky's mind that rescue was at hand. He had
halted his team, and from a secure position in the front end of the
wagon had shot down a dozen buffalo bulls. Pure curiosity and the
blood of their comrades had kept them within easy range of the