The Western Echo / A Description of the Western State and Territories of the United States. As Gathered in a Tour by Wagon

by George W. Romspert

The hide season was now here, and being well prepared, we expected to take many a pelt, and have lots of sport. We had prepared ourselves with a great many little pegs, and with these we pinned to the ground, flesh side up, the hides that we gathered, until the hill-side in front of our door was pretty well covered. Every now and then we met a brother hunter upon the plains; and with him we had many a pleasant chat, and learned the history of the country from the present back through many years. It is interesting to listen to the tales of the old hunters who roamed the wild prairie thirty years ago, and who have ever since neighbored with wild animals and savages, and reaped a livelihood from the western wilds. They say that many years ago, when they first came to the country, if a person were upon a slight elevation when the herd was passing by, the valley would be covered with buffaloes as far as the eye could reach, rendering the whole country a dark, moving mass, and compelling the Forty-niners en-route for California to stop over for whole days, until the herd crossed over. Though there were small herds of thirty and forty moving in all directions, the main herd moved in a body, and unlike cattle, kept closely together. Before the time of railroads through the West, they used to hunt all winter and dry the hides, and haul them east in the spring, making large profits. But when the Kansas Pacific, Union Pacific, and Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe railroads were built, the buffaloes were very plenty; and meat being in good demand, and having an outlet for the shipment of hides, great numbers of hunters swarmed the prairie, and the slaughter of the animal was wholesale. Good robe hides then being worth four and five dollars, the animal, rich and delicious, and for which many a poor eastern family would be thankful, after being stripped of its winding-sheet, was left to decay in the sun or be devoured by the howling wolves. They say they used to lie down upon the prairie and shoot; and the longer they shot, and the more they killed, the thicker they came around; and they often found it necessary to get out of the way to keep themselves from being trampled into the earth. In this way they were slaughtered by thousands. The number became rapidly reduced, until to-day the main herd consists of but a few thousands, and small herds of twenty and thirty wander here and there, reclining upon the soft plain and nipping the rich grass from the hills that once echoed the bellowings of the innumerable herd. The great numbers spoken of somewhat startled us, and sounded more like a fable than a pleasant story; but when we traveled over the plains and saw sometimes fifty and sixty skeletons almost on a heap, and whole acres almost covered with bones whitening in the sun, and sometimes being able to jump from one buffalo-head to another for several hundred yards (especially in the Republican Valley), we were persuaded to believe what we were told.

Upon reflection, it seems a sin that these animals were shot down in such great numbers only for the pelts, and so much of the best meat in the world left to waste in the sun or be devoured by the wild, carnivorous animals of the prairie; but the truth is, no cattle or sheep could be raised or any use made of the country so long as these mighty herds continued to trample it. The hunters say they used to start out in the morning without a cent in their pockets, and at night they would often have pelts enough, together with the meat they found sale for along the railroad, to pay them seventy-five or one hundred dollars, which they would gamble and drink away before morning, very often. “Ah!” say they, “we have been here many years, and have spent many a fortune in the vile dens so numerous in the West; but the great herds have now almost faded away, and instead of having plenty, as we might have, we are now poor men, wandering over the plains for a living.”

It used to be very dangerous to be in the way when they were upon a stampede, for they were as irresistible as the ocean wave; and it is said that more than one outfit, horses and all, has been trod into the dust by the trampling thousands that made the valleys roar. But stampedes have for some years ceased to be very dangerous, and buffalo-hunting has for some time been a science, and is practiced as follows: A person or company, with teams, saddle-ponies, ammunition, and provisions, go out to where the buffaloes range, and there make a head-quarter camp,—usually a dug-out, for timber is scarce,—and there unload. When the herd is killed and frightened away from camp, one or two stay in camp to watch over what is left there and the rest start out with wagons in the following order: The hunter has a big cartridge-rifle,—usually a one-hundred-grain Sharpe, or one hundred and twenty grains, which is called a big fifty,—fifty caliber. These guns weigh from twelve to eighteen pounds, and carry from a mile and a half to two miles. He also has a large belt, with loops to hold forty or fifty cartridges, and a good knife. One man usually does the shooting for the outfit, though two sometimes go together. The skinner or skinners, with ammunition, beds, and provisions, follow with the wagon or wagons, and keep just in sight of the hunter. When he sees a herd he crawls and creeps until he is within shooting distance, and fires down the leader. The herd will not fly without a leader; and until they have a new one selected he is again ready, and downs him. Watching his chances, and being a good shot, in this way he sometimes succeeds in getting down fifty or sixty buffaloes. One man said he one time shot down one hundred and sixty in one stand. When the blood begins to flow freely the herd becomes very much excited; and while horning the wounded ones and pawing in the blood, with tails lashing the air, and almost deafening you with their bellowing, it is enough to terrify an inexperienced hunter. And any person who has been there, I assure you, will make himself just as scarce as possible on such occasions; for a wounded buffalo is very dangerous. When the herd leaves,—from the hunter ceasing to fire, or making a mis-shot,—the skinners come up and go to work, and the hunter follows up the herd on foot and takes down one here and there, and tries for another stand, which depends very much upon his skill as a hunter. Sometimes this chase is kept up all day, and the hunter has no success until about sundown, when they have become somewhat used to the crack of the rifle, and being tired and hungry they slacken up; and while fighting the wounded ones the hunter gets in a few good shots, and right there loads his wagons. When the wagons are well loaded they start for camp to unload the hides and stretch them out to dry. Several hundred hides being sometimes stretched out at one camp, it presents quite an attractive scene. When the hides are dry, they are put in piles of ten apiece, and staked and tied down. In the spring they are hauled to market.

Sometimes the meat is jerked, which is done as follows: The hump, shoulder-clods, and saddles are the only parts used. This meat is cut in strips as thick as a man’s wrist, and after being seasoned is hung upon wooden racks in the sun, and a slow fire built under it to smoke; and in about two days it is jerked. This meat can be taken to the mountains in the spring and sold readily for fifteen and twenty cents per pound. This is the way it is done; and when the herd changes its range, as it often does, you must then pull up and follow, and again locate; though you can hunt from one hundred to one hundred and fifty miles around one camp.

There is now another hunt; and that is the wolf-hunt. This is done with strychnine. When you first come into a country (before there are so many carcasses), just kill an antelope or buffalo, and while the meat is warm cut out several hundred baits, an inch square, perforate them and put in a little of the poison, and give the meat a little rubbing. Now put the baits in a sack, and after tying one end of your picket-rope to the horn of your saddle and the other end round a large piece of the meat, start upon a six or eight mile circle around the carcass, dragging the fresh meat, and dropping a bait every one hundred yards. In some parts of the plains, especially along little waters, the wolves and skunks are very numerous; and after sunset they can be heard howling in every direction, and they hurry to the newly-spilled blood. When they strike the circle where the meat has been dragged they will start around upon it, picking up the baits, and dropping at about the second. In the morning the hunter mounts his pony and starts round his circle, skinning the wolves and skunks, and often has a pony-load of pelts from wolves, skunks, badgers, swifts, etc. The wolf-hides are worth two dollars and fifty cents apiece, and the bounty is from fifty cents to five dollars a head—according to the county. Skunks are worth forty-five cents, and badger and swift hides are worth forty cents apiece. There is much to be made at this business; and being well prepared for the full catalogue of prairie sports, we cast our baits and shot our game.

We had very comfortable quarters upon the Cimaron, and the game was also plenty here. The country upon either side of the river, for a half mile to the north and south, was very rough; and in these deep gulches and pretty ravines many a buffalo, deer, and antelope breathed out his last.

Just after twilight one night in December we were all in camp at head-quarters when a great light to the north attracted our attention. The whole northern sky suddenly turned red, and the heavens were lighted up as with the lightning’s glare. Brighter and brighter it grew until the sight was grand beyond all description. The very air began to turn warm, and the gale that blew from the north brought with it great clouds of smoke. At length the forked tongues of the flames began to dart up from behind the

THE PRAIRIE FIRE.