The past night had been squally, with high winds, and occasionally a few
drops of rain. Our cooking did not occupy much time, and we left camp
early. Nothing of interest occurred during the morning. The same dreary
barrenness, except that a hard marly clay had replaced the sandy soil.
Buffalo absolutely covered the plain, on both sides of the river, and
whenever we ascended the hills, scattered herds gave life to the view in
every direction. A small drove of wild horses made their appearance on the
low river bottoms, a mile or two to the left, and I sent off one of the
Indians (who seemed very eager to catch one) on my led horse, a spirited
and fleet animal. The savage manoeuvred a little to get the wind of the
horses, in which he succeeded--approaching within a hundred yards without
being discovered. The chase for a few minutes was interesting. My hunter
easily overtook and passed the hindmost of the wild drove, which the did
not attempt to _lasso_; all his efforts being directed to capture the
leader. But the strength of the horse, weakened by insufficient
nourishment of grass, failed in a race, and all the drove escaped. We
halted at noon on the bank of the river, the barometer at that time being
26.192, and thermometer 103 deg., with a light air from the south and clear
weather.

In the course of the afternoon, dust rising among the hills, at a
particular place, attracted our attention; and, riding up, we found a band
of eighteen or twenty buffalo bulls engaged in a desperate fight. Though
butting and goring were bestowed liberally, and without distinction, yet
their efforts were evidently directed against one--a huge, gaunt old bull,
very lean, while his adversaries were all fat and in good order. He
appeared very weak, and had already received some wounds; and, while we
were looking on, was several times knocked down and badly hurt, and a very
few moments would have put an end to him. Of course, we took the side of
the weaker party, and attacked the herd; but they were so blind with rage,