*****

Finally, the Minitarees and other tribes had a curious legend of their origin. They believed that their forefathers once dwelt in dark, subterranean caverns, beyond a great, swift-running river. Two youths disappeared from amongst them and after a short absence returned to proclaim that they had found a land lighted by an orb which warmed the earth to fecundity, where deep waters shimmered crystal white and countless herds of bison covered grass and flower-decked plains. So the youths led the people up out of the primal darkness into the pleasant valleys where they dwelt evermore. And as the bison were celebrated in this child-like tradition of the Beginning, so likewise, did they figure in the primitive conception of the hereafter. That region of Summer where the good Indian should find repose, was pictured as an ideal country, fair with verdure and rich with herds of buffalo which the good spirits would go seeking through the golden vistas of eternity.

IV

When the first explorers penetrated the fastnesses of the New World the buffalo was lord of the continent. Coronado on his march northward from Mexico saw hordes of these unknown beasts which a chronicler of 1600 described naïvely as "crooked-backed oxen." The mighty herds roamed through the blue grass of Kentucky, the Carolinas, that region now the state of New York, and probably every favorable portion of North America. Very gradually they were pushed farther and farther westward to the vicinity of the Rocky Mountains, which was for many years their refuge and retreat. In 1819 the official expedition sent by John C. Calhoun to examine the Rocky Mountains, their tribes, animal and plant life, found the buffalo reduced in numbers, though in the wild stretches of country lying South along the Arkansas, they were seen in countless hordes. The report says:

"During these few days past, the bisons have occurred in vast and almost continuous herds, and in such infinite numbers as seemed to indicate the great bend of the Arkansas as their chief and general rendezvous."

The account continues to narrate how the scent of the white men borne to the farthest animal, a distance of two miles, started the multitudes speeding away, and yet so limitless were those millions, that, day after day, they flowed past like a sea until their presence became as a part of the landscape, and by night their thunderous bellow echoed through the savage wastes.

In Bradbury's Travels there is a description of a fight among buffalo bulls. He says:

"On my return to the boats, as the wind had in some degree abated, we proceeded and had not gone more than five or six miles before we were surprised by a dull, hollow sound, the cause of which we could not possibly imagine. It seemed to be one or two miles below us; but as our descent was rapid, it increased every moment in loudness, and before we had proceeded far, our ears were able to catch some distinct tones, like the bellowing of buffaloes. When opposite to the place from whence it proceeded, we landed, ascended the bank, and entered a small skirting of trees and shrubs, that separated the river from an extensive plain. On gaining a view of it, such a scene opened to us as will fall to the lot of few travellers to witness. This plain was literally covered with buffaloes as far as we could see, and we soon discovered that it consisted in part of females. The males were fighting in every direction, with a fury which I have never seen paralleled, each having singled out his antagonist. We judged that the number must have amounted to some thousands, and that there were many hundreds of these battles going on at the same time, some not eighty yards from us. The noise occasioned by the trampling and bellowing was far beyond description."

At that time the bison paths were like well trodden roadways and served as such to the explorers. These paths always led by most direct routes to fresh water, and therefore were of the greatest assistance to travellers unacquainted with the undiscovered lands.

Such were the legions of the plains even when the East had refused them shelter. And although it was roughly estimated that the tribes dwelling along the Missouri River killed yearly 100,000 for food, saddle covers and clothes, this did not appreciably lessen their hosts. Not until the white tide flowed faster and faster over the wilds was the doom of the buffalo sounded, together with that of the forests which sheltered them, and the Indians who were at once their foes and their friends.