All the village came running and shouting, and the squaws gathered around the dead buffalo, jostling and elbowing each other as they tore off the meat. It is the Indian rule that game is common property, and my buffalo was soon reduced to a pile of bones by the knives of the busy squaws. I could not help laughing as I watched them struggling for the choice morsels. First, the skin was carefully removed, and then the muscles and gristle cut away. Then, just as a squaw was about to take the coveted part, she would be rudely thrust aside, and some other squaw would take it. These exploits were received with loud shouts of laughter, and no ill-temper or quarreling was observed among the excited crowd of women who surrounded the carcass.
On returning to my lodge, I found Washtella in great glee over my good luck, and she explained that it was no small matter to have killed the first buffalo slain in the hunt. Presently I received a message from the chief, and was informed by an old Indian that, having killed the first buffalo, I would be entitled to lead the hunt on the first day. Meat was brought me, and the skin or robe, which, according to the Indian custom, is always given to the one who kills the animal. So proud was Washtella that she did nothing all the evening but talk of my good fortune, and I could not help being amused at the boasts of the little maid. Nothing could possibly have happened that would have given her more pleasure.
The next morning, as soon as it was daylight, I was aroused, and told that the warriors were waiting for me to lead them in the chase. Assembling all of them before my lodge, I addressed them, saying I was a young man, and lacked experience, but if they would allow me, I would name one worthy to lead them in my place. This was received with loud shouts of approval, and as soon as quiet was restored, I pointed to a young warrior, and said: "He is a good man, go and follow him." The warrior I had selected was my bitter enemy. As his animosity was well known in the tribe, the honors thus thrust upon him, by one from whom he had expected no favors, surprised and pleased them. For a moment the brave hung his head, and then came forward, and, amid the shouts of the warriors, gave me his hand. Feeling unwell, I did not go upon the hunt that day, but in the evening, when the party returned, my old enemy came to my lodge, and as a token of his friendship, presented me with two fine robes he had taken during the day.
On the second day I went out with the hunters, and joined in a most exciting chase. Under the directions of a chief, we deployed at wide distances, and then, closing in, surrounded a herd of buffaloes on three sides; and as soon as the herd began to move, the chase began. Our tough little ponies bore us swiftly along, and soon the herd was hard pressed. Presently it began to scatter, and then each Indian, selected a buffalo and followed the beast up until he had killed it. It is astonishing how fast the great lumbering animals can run, and although they do not seem to go over the ground very rapidly, it takes a good horse to come up with them. Their shambling "lope" is equal in speed to an American horse's gallop, and they can climb steep hills and get over rough ground faster than a horse. They run with their heads near the earth, and a hundred of them will make a mighty noise that resembles the rumbling of distant thunder. The warriors do not stop to touch the game after it is dead, as the skinning and packing of the meat is the work of the squaws who follow in the wake of the hunters. For this purpose they have pack-ponies, and two women will skin and pack three or four buffaloes in a day.
The meat is brought to the village, is cut in narrow slices, about an inch thick, and three or four inches long. These slices are then hung on poles, or stretched on small willows laid across a frame-work of poles. The meat is frequently turned, and is allowed to remain in the sun and air for three days. It should be covered or brought in at night, and must not be allowed to get wet by rain while it is curing. This is called jerking buffalo, and is a simple and easy process of curing meat. The pure crisp air of the plains soon dries it, and then it has a sweet, pleasant taste. I have known climates on the plains where nearly all the year carcasses could be hung up and left without spoiling until used. Meat, when jerked, is only about half the weight and size it is when in a raw state. If soaked in water it will swell greatly, and then, unless used immediately, it will spoil.
When the buffalo flesh is dried sufficiently, it is put into parfleshes, or wrappers, made of rawhide cut square, which will hold about half a bushel. They are sewed up at the bottom and sides, the laps at the top being left open until they are filled. The meat is then laid in flat and packed tightly like plugs of tobacco. When two or three layers of meat have been put in, hot buffalo fat is brought and poured over it until all the interstices are filled up. Then more layers of meat are put in and more fat poured on, until the parflesh is full, when the laps are folded over each other and tightly sewed up with sinews. The meat is now ready for winter use, and two parfleshes are fastened together like a pair of saddle-bags, and slung across the back of a pony when the Indians travel. To prevent these bags or wrappers from hurting the ponies' backs, the under side is lined with fur or bear skin.
We had hunted four days from our camp on the lake, and although we had taken the utmost precaution not unnecessarily to alarm the buffaloes most of them had gone a long distance from the village. A council was called, and it was determined we should go over to the lakes that lay on the Jim River, sixty miles distant. We immediately set out, moving around the lake to the right of the buffaloes, so as not to disturb them. Our route lay across a beautiful level country through which meandered little streams eight or ten miles apart. We traveled leisurely along, however, halting on the creeks, and making about sixteen miles per day, for many of our ponies were already heavily laden with meat.
On the fourth day we reached the lakes, and again pitched our village. Here we found plenty of buffaloes and a great many calves, which were very acceptable to us, as we wanted some parfleshes of veal.
We hunted four days, and took a great deal of meat. Each family had from three to six parfleshes, according to its size, which was as much as it could use during the winter, and enough for the infirm besides. So the hunt was announced at an end, and we began to prepare for our return. I had been exceedingly fortunate, and had taken no less than nine parfleshes of meat and had twelve robes.
There are several methods of killing buffaloes besides the regular chase. One of these, as practiced by the Indians, is as follows: