Without loss of time, we set about finding a gateway into the herds. Looking at the surface before us, it appeared a level, unbroken plain, quite to the verge where it rolled up against the distant horizon. One would have maintained that even a ditch, if there, might be traced in its meanderings across the smooth brown floor. Yet deep ravines, miles in length, wound in and out among the herds, though to us entirely invisible. A short search discovered one of these, which promised to answer our purpose, and to lead to a spot where a large number of cows and calves were feeding. Fortunately the wind was north, so that we could creep into its teeth without sending to the timid mothers any tell-tale taint.
The wagons were stopped, and we got out, and descending into the hollow, moved forward. The walls on either side seemed disagreeably close. All around us was animal life, a small portion of which would have been sufficient, if so disposed, to make the concealed path which we were traversing a veritable "last ditch" to us. As we entered the ravine, some cayotes slunk out of it ahead of us, and one large gray wolf, with long gallop, disappeared over the banks. The temptation to fire at them was very strong, but prudence and the guide forbade.
We picked up some very fine specimens of "infernal grape," in the form of nearly round balls of iron pyrites. They lay upon the surface like canister-shot upon a battle-field. It seemed as if during the early period, when Mother Earth began to cool off a little, her fiery heart still palpitated so violently under her thin bodice, that beads of the molten life within, like drops of perspiration, had forced their way through, and, in cooling, had retained their bubble-like form. We could have picked up a half-bushel of them which would have made very fair aliment for cannon. The dogs of war could have spit them out as spitefully and fatally against human hearts as if the morsels had been prepared by human hands. From such well-molded shot, of no mortal make, Milton might have obtained his charges for those first cannon which the traitor-angel invented and employed against the embattled hosts of heaven. Shamus, when he afterward became acquainted with the specimens, called them "a rattlin' shower of witches' pebbles."
We also passed large surfaces of white rock, which were sprinkled all over with dark, hollow balls, of a vitrified substance. Most of them were imbedded midway in the rock, leaving a hemisphere exposed which, in color and form, was an exact counterpart of a large bomb. If the reader has ever seen a shell partly imbedded in the substance against which it was fired, this description will be perfectly plain. There were indications that a volcano had once existed in this vicinity, and it seemed highly probable that the red-hot balls which it projected into air had fallen and cooled in the soft formation adjacent, still retaining their original shape.
We should have lingered longer over these geological curiosities, had not the premonitory symptoms of a scientific lecture from the Professor alarmed our guide into the remonstrance, "You're burnin' daylight, gents!" and thus warned, we pushed forward.
A few hundred yards further brought us to the spot for commencing active operations. Dropping upon hands and knees, we began crawling along the side of the ravine in a line, pushing our guns before us. We knew that the buffalo must be very close, for we could hear the measured cropping of their teeth upon the grass. They seemed to be feeding toward us, as we slowly drew up to the level. I found myself trembling all over, so nervous that the cracking of a weed under our guns sounded to me as loud as a pistol-shot.
I looked around, and the stories which I had read in my youth of adventures in oriental lands rose fresh to my memory. I almost imagined our party a dozen wild Bedouins, creeping from ambush to fire upon a caravan, the first note of alarm to which would be a storm of musketry. Unshaven faces, soiled clothes, and rough hair, assisted us to the personation, and if aught else was needed to carry out the fancy, it soon came in a low "Hist!" from the guide, as he pointed to the level above us. Following the direction of his finger, we saw some hairy lumps, about the size of muffs, not fifty yards in front of us, bobbing up and down just above the line which defined the prairie's edge against the sky. For an instant, we supposed them to be small animals of some sort, playing on the slope, but the low voice of the guide said, "Thar they hump, gents!" and we caught the word at once, just as the whaler does the welcome cry of "There she blows," from the look-out aloft. What we saw, of course, were the humps of buffaloes moving slowly forward as they fed. At a word from our guide, we halted for last preparations.
"Fire at the nearest cows, gents," he said, "and if you get one down, and keep hid, you'll have lots of shots at the bulls gatherin' round."
Muggs was continually getting his gun crosswise, so that should it go off ahead of time, as usual, it would shoot somebody on the left, and kick some one on the right. Just ahead of us, a prairie dog sat on his castle wall, and barked constantly. But, fortunately, neither his signals nor our grumbled remonstrances to the Briton seemed to attract the attention of the herd in the least degree.
A few more feet of cautious crawling, and several buffaloes stood revealed, a cow and calf among the number. The mother espied us, and lifting her uncouth head, with its crooked, homely horns, regarded us for an instant with a quiet sort of feminine curiosity, and then went to feeding again. She probably considered us a parcel of sneaking wolves, and being conscious of having hosts of protectors near her, was not at all frightened. Almost simultaneously, the guns of the whole party were at shoulder, and just as the cow lifted her head again, to watch the movement, we fired. The fate of that bison was as effectually sealed as that of the condemned army horse which was first used to tell Paris and the world the terrors of the mitrailleuse. The poor creature gave a quick whirl to the right, made two convulsive jumps, and then stood still. She dropped her nose, a gush of blood following fast; her whole frame shuddered, as the air from the lungs tried to force its way through the clotted tide, and then she fell dead, almost crushing the calf also. The smell of the blood seemed to excite the bulls more than the report of the guns, which had only startled them for an instant. Some stood stupidly snuffing about the prostrate victim, while others, straightening out their tails, marched uneasily around.