The early dawn of Wednesday morning saw us again astir. There was the same creeping of mist out of the valley to join the darkness as it fled from the plains above, and the same revealing of thousands of shaggy forms silently feeding in the distance. This time our beasts and our bodies were both in excellent condition for the chase. Joints gain and lose stiffness quickly in such a life. One morning the hunter feels as if the mill of life, though he turn its crank ever so slowly, had broken every bone in his body; twenty-four hours later may find him elastic and buoyant, as if youth had torn away from the embrace of the dead past and was with him again in all its pristine vigor. In the present case, too, that friend of early hours and foe of sleepy eyes, the coffee bean had done its work for us grandly.
Ten horsemen comprised the strength of the party which rode out of the valley just as daylight was coming into it. One of the hostlers and a Mexican were left in camp, the remainder of our force accompanying us, with a couple of wagons to bring in the game. At his earnest solicitation, Shamus was permitted to abandon his post of duty temporarily, and go along also, with the understanding that he was to select choice pieces from the first suitable game we might bring down, and, returning to camp, be ready for our arrival with an ample dinner.
As we rode down the valley of Silver Creek, gangs of wild turkeys occasionally came out of the narrow skirt of timber, and, running along before us for short distances, re-entered it, and were lost to view again. Never having been hunted, they seemed destitute of the timidity and cunning which are the usual characteristics of this bird.
Twenty minutes' ride brought us to the Saline, the basin of which we found to be half a mile or thereabouts in width, and presenting a scene of great desolation. We were something like two hundred feet below the table-lands which came down to the narrow valley in barren canyons and masses of rock. The stream itself is narrow, with less than two feet of water running swiftly over the sands, and along its banks, at intervals, a few dwarfed cottonwood trees. Such was the Valley of the Saline at this point; yet thirty miles below, our men told us, the valley opened out into rich bottom lands, and was famous for its beauty.
While in the act of crossing, we came suddenly upon four small animals playing and fishing in the shallow water. With an exclamation of astonishment, the Professor had his glasses out in a moment. The guide informed us they were only 'coons, and such they were sure enough, with the peculiar color and distinctive rings that made it impossible, on second look, to mistake them for any thing else. Truly, Nature seemed full of eccentricities in this remarkable region. The raccoons of natural history have always affected trees, and been considered, par excellence, creatures of the forest. I scarcely think the Professor would have been surprised, at that moment, to know that hereabouts fish were in the habit of climbing around in bushes, or stealing corn.
When they heard us, the four little fellows scampered away a few steps, and disappeared in some holes in the bank, in executing which maneuver one of them swam a yard or two across a deep spot, making good progress. We learned from our men that small colonies of these animals are frequently found along treeless creeks on the plains, living in the banks, and fishing for a living, by grasping the minnows and frogs, as they pass over the shallow places.
From the river we directed our course toward a deep canyon which, opening toward us as if the bluff had been riven asunder by some great convulsion of Nature, at its further end reached the level of the plains, and offered us an easy ascent. Evidence of volcanic action appeared along the canyon in the form of vitrified fragments and occasional masses of lava resembling rock.
The guide called our attention to an object in the ravine some distance ahead, which was enveloped in a cloud of dust. It was a buffalo, he said, indulging in a game of bluff. This statement not appearing very clear to our non-gambling party, he explained that the old fellow was "butting against the bank, as if he was going to break it all to pieces, when in reality he had no show at all."
As we could not approach nearer without frightening him, we stood still for a few minutes and watched him. He would back fifteen or twenty yards from the bluff, paw the ground for an instant, and then fling himself headlong against the wall of earth with a tremendous force, as was abundantly testified by the great clouds of dust that would rise in the air. For a moment afterward he would continue violently hooking the soil, as if the bowels of the earth were those of an adversary. We afterward repeatedly saw bulls engaged in this exercise. It is to the buffalo what the training school is to the prize-fighter, a developing of brute force for future conflicts.
The shock of such charges as we witnessed, if made by a domestic ox, would have broken his neck. Even our bison friend finally overdid the matter. Either because his foot tripped or the blow glanced, upon one of his charges, he fell down on his fore legs, and then rolled completely over. We thought this a good time to push forward, and accordingly did so at a gallop. Whether thinking himself knocked down by a foe, or because he heard the rattling of hoofs, we could not determine, but he suddenly sprang to his feet, whirled his shaggy head into bearing upon us, then turned and set away at full speed up the canyon, toward the plains above. The order was given to ply spur and close in upon him, if possible, or he would set the herds above in motion.