He was astonished and delighted to think I would let him ride Brigham, the most famous buffalo horse in the West. When we drew near the herd I pointed out a fine four-year-old bull with a splendid head. I galloped alongside. Brigham spotted the buffalo I wanted, and after my companion's third shot the brute fell. My pupil was overjoyed with his success, and appeared to be so grateful to me that I felt sure I should be able to sell him three or four blocks of Rome real estate at least. I invited him to take dinner, and served as part of the repast the meat of the buffalo he had shot. The next morning he looked me up and told me he wanted to make a proposition to me.
"What is it?" I asked. I had thought I was the one who was going to make a proposition.
"I will give you one-eighth of this town site," he said.
The nerve of this proposal took me off my feet. Here was a total stranger offering me one-eighth of my own town site as a reward for what I had done for him.
I told him that if he killed another buffalo I would have to hog-hobble him and send him out of town; then rode off and left him.
This magnanimous offer occurred right in front of my own house. My wife overheard it, and also my reply.
As I rode away, he called out that he wanted to explain, but I was thoroughly disgusted.
"I have no time to listen to you," I shouted over my shoulder.
I was bound out on a buffalo hunt to get meat for the graders twenty miles away on the railroad, and I kept right on going. Three days afterward I rode back over the ridge above the town of Rome and looked down on it.
I took several more looks. The town was being torn down and carted away. The balloon-frame buildings were coming apart section by section. I could see at least a hundred teams and wagons carting lumber, furniture, and everything that made up the town over the prairies to the eastward.