“There will be a large hunting party starting out to-morrow after buffalo,” said he, “and if you wish to go along I will furnish you with a good hunting horse.”
“I shall be delighted to go,” cried young Bill, so next morning found him riding across the prairie with about fifty Indians and twenty squaws.
After travelling for nearly ten miles the scouts discovered a herd and reported its location to the hunting chief. This leader was thoroughly acquainted with the topography of the country and led the redskins upon a long détour, so as to get on the leeward side of the herd. As soon as a favorable position had been reached the Indians stripped to their breech-clouts and advanced, leading their running horses as they did so.
AN INDIAN BUFFALO HUNT.
The chief now divided the hunters into two divisions, in order to get the buffalo into a small area. They rode to within a quarter of a mile of the herd and then the word was given to “Sail in!”
In an instant the wild array of naked Indians started for the herd, sending forth yell after yell, and riding like demons in their eagerness to bring down the first buffalo. For this is quite a feat and is commented upon by the whole village.
Swift Runner, himself, had the fastest horse in the party and brought down the first buffalo, much to the chagrin of many a young brave—who coveted the honor—for it would bring him smiles from his lady love. Young Bill’s pony loped along with willingness, and Swift Runner pointed out a fat cow for him to dispose of. In a few jumps he was alongside of the great lumbering brute, and fired into her side. As luck would have it, he broke her back and she dropped to the sod. Swift Runner yelled hilariously at this success, but it was a very careless shot, and, had he missed, the cow might have made things ugly for him.