MY FIRST BUFFALO HUNT.
I do not think that there is anything more exciting, combined with fun and enjoyment to a man, than a buffalo hunt, or, as some call it, a chase, especially the first. I well remember my first experience along that line. It was on the lake’s flat, between Sun river and Fort Benton. John Argue and James Armstrong were with me. We could see for several days buffaloes in the coulees on the Muddy. The weather had been cold and snowing for some time. The first clear day we mounted our horses and prepared for a chase.
After we arrived on top of Frozen Hill we could see that the Lake flat and the region beyond was entirely covered with buffaloes. It was a sight to behold. Without exaggeration there were a quarter of a million buffaloes in sight; the main herd covered eight miles by three miles, and they were so numerous that they ate every spear of grass as they went. We rode slowly until we got near the herd, for they were quietly feeding. Soon we could see that the outside ones discovered us, and we made the charge with guns in hand. I had a dragoon revolver, the kind that the cavalry used the time of the war. I was riding a very fine horse. Soon we commenced shooting. It was not long before every buffalo was on the move. And now the fun began. Tens of thousands of these ponderous animals were running at a furious pace; the earth trembled, and the clicking of their hoofs could be heard for miles away. By this time my horse had me in the midst of the herd, for he could run like a racer, and I had two big buffaloes badly crippled and they fell to the rear. Now I had gone all of two miles and fired a dozen shots, with buffaloes in front of me and buffaloes behind me and buffaloes on each side of me; in fact I could see nothing but buffaloes. It takes some practice to load a gun while on horseback and on full speed. However, I was doing this with considerable accuracy. Now I had my old dragoon loaded the third time, and I took after a fat young cow. The chase began to tell on my horse for it was as much as he could do to keep up with this particular buffalo. Soon I had two bullets in her and one more in my gun; I was determined to make a sure shot with it. I now could see that the pace of the buffalo was slower. I spurred my horse and with a spurt he was at her side. As quick as lightening the buffalo whirled around and caught my foot with her crooked horn and came very near throwing me out of the saddle and as near goring the horse. This warned me to be more cautious. The buffalo started in another direction, but very slowly. I followed it; finally it stopped and turned, looking directly at me. I was fifty yards off. I took a deliberate aim at it and down she came. I shot it directly between the eyes. This cow buffalo netted nearly nine hundred pounds and it was as fine meat as I ever tasted. I was now in the center of the buffalo herd and all running like mad and going in one direction; the clouds of fine snow and dust making it very dangerous for a man, being liable to be run over by the buffaloes. At this juncture I had to stand in one place, hat in hand, yelling at the top of my voice to keep them from running over me and my horse. Once a big bull, coming on a terrific speed directly towards me, was in ten feet before he saw me, but made a dodge and at the same time gave a snort and passed me, brushing his shaggy coat against my buckskin suit. It was not long before the big rush had gone by and I had had my first buffalo hunt. A few miles west of me some Indians were chasing another herd. On my way back I found the first two buffaloes that I crippled; one was dead and the other could not get up. Armstrong and Argue had good luck. Next day we went back and brought home a wagon load of as good meat as anyone could wish.
From Painting by C. M. Russell.
INDIANS HUNTING BUFFALO.
The buffaloes are the most watchful animals that I ever saw. At the least disturbance in the herd they are all at once on the watch as if they had some way of telegraphing to each other; and their scent is remarkably keen. When getting away from the hunter they all run one way and invariably go north. They have remarkable lung power; it takes more than an ordinary horse to keep up with the average buffalo for a mile, and, if not in a mile, good bye horse, for about this time the buffalo begins to warm up and is getting ready for a race. This was in the winter of 1872.
Robert Vaughn.
Jan. 23, 1898.