Tired and very hungry after our hard day's work, we devoured our supper and, after agreeing to devote the next day to digging and haymaking, were soon sound asleep.
After breakfast next morning Tom shouldered the scythe and his rifle and set out for the hay-field.
When we had cleared away the breakfast dishes Jack chose the pick-and-shovel work and was soon making the dirt fly out of the hole on the other side of the ravine, while I set to making a hay frame of crossed poles on top of the wagon-box, notched and lashed together and held in place by strips of rawhide cut from the skin on the yearling buffalo quarters. Now and then on the still morning air, although about a mile away, we could hear the "whick-whack" as Tom whetted his scythe.
At nine o'clock Jack went to the hay-field to help Tom, while I put on the dinner, to which I called them by flag at noon. In the afternoon they returned to their haymaking, and by evening they had a nice lot of hay in cocks which would do to haul and stack next day. After finishing the hay frame I worked at digging in the dugout.
Buffalo were to be seen on the prairie all about us, and now and then a few antelope made their appearance, but we were too busy to spare the time to go out and kill any. Flocks of water-fowl—wild geese, brants, ducks, and sand-hill cranes—were seen and heard flying over and sometimes alighted in the pond formed by the beaver dam, and also seemed to come down at a point several miles down the creek, which indicated that there was a body of water there.
In the evening when the men had returned from the hay-field we all stood for a while looking down the valley and remarking on the appearance of civilization imparted to the scene by the distant flat dotted over with cocks of hay. But in the morning at daylight, on again looking in that direction, we were filled with indignation to see that during the night a herd of buffalo had preempted our hay-field and had trampled, horned, and scattered all the nice cocks in every direction, and were now bedded on the ground, probably chewing their cuds in total indifference to our rights after almost destroying the previous day's work of our haymakers.
"I'll make wolf bait of one of 'em for spite, so I will," said Jack as he seized a rifle and started down the hollow to get a shot.
"Don't kill more'n one, Jack, just enough to scare them off," suggested Tom as the irate Irishman sneaked off down the ravine, "for we don't want our hay ground littered up with dead buffalo and dead wolf carcasses."
For some minutes Tom and I stood watching the buffalo to see what the Irishman would do for them. They were all lying down in apparent perfect contentment except one large bull. We kept our eyes on the big bull and after a time saw the huge beast drop, and immediately afterward the report of the rifle reached our ears. The rest of the buffalo jumped to their feet in alarm at the sound of the shot, but, instead of running away, stood staring at the timber from whence Jack had fired; and had he desired to do so he could probably have remained in concealment and shot several more, for the buffalo do not readily take the hint of danger till they can see the enemy. Presently we saw the herd stampede, and at the same time our Irishman made his appearance, running out of the timber shouting and firing another shot over them to give them a good scare.
"Our hay's ruined entirely," he said as he put away his rifle and sat down to breakfast, "scattered all about and tramped over. Even what we left in the windrows is all horned and tossed about. We may be able to rake up some of it, but it'll be hardly worth the effort. But I took me satisfaction out of that big fellow—I got a good broadside shot at him and must have shot him through the heart, for he dropped in his tracks. Peck had better go down there this evening and put some poison on the carcass, and be taking a few wolf pelts, too, while we're a-haymaking."