Although we removed the skin very quickly, and lost no time in again starting the wagon to our permanent camp, the delay occasioned by the death of our twentieth buffalo,—which occurred on November 20, precisely two months from the date of our leaving Washington to collect twenty buffalo, it possible,—caused us all to be caught in a snow-storm, which burst upon us from the northwest. The wagon had to be abandoned about 12 miles from camp in the bad lands. Mr. Brown packed the bedding on one of the horses and rode the other, he and Boyd reaching camp about 9 o’clock that night in a blinding snow-storm. Of coarse the skins in the wagon were treated with preservatives and covered up. It proved to be over a week that the wagon and its load had to remain thus abandoned before it was possible to get to it and bring it to camp, and even then the task was one of great difficulty. In this connection I can not refrain from recording the fact that the services rendered by Mr. W. Harvey Brown on all such trying occasions as the above were invaluable. He displayed the utmost zeal and intelligence, not only in the more agreeable kinds of work and sport incident to the hunt, but also in the disagreeable drudgery, such as team-driving and working on half-frozen specimens in bitter cold weather.
The storm which set in on the 20th soon developed into a regular blizzard. A fierce and bitter cold wind swept down from the northwest, driving the snow before it in blinding gusts. Had our camp been poorly sheltered we would have suffered, but at it was we were fairly comfortable.
Having thus completed our task (of getting twenty buffaloes), we were anxious to get out of that fearful country before we should get caught in serious difficulties with the weather, and it was arranged that Private C. S. West should ride to Fort Keogh as soon as possible, with a request for transportation. By the third day, November 23, the storm had abated sufficiently that Private West declared his willingness to start. It was a little risky, but as he was to make only 10 miles the first day and stop at the N-bar camp on Sand Creek, it was thought safe to let him go. He dressed himself warmly, took my revolver, in order not to be hampered with a rifle, and set out.
The next day was clear and fine, and we remarked it as an assurance of Mr. West’s safety during his ride from Sand Creek to the LU-bar ranch, his second stopping-place. The distance was about 25 miles, through bad lands all the way, and it was the only portion of the route which caused me anxiety for our courier’s safety. The snow on the levels was less than 6 inches deep, the most of it having been blown into drifts and hollows; but although the coulées were all filled level to the top, our courier was a man of experience and would know how to avoid them.
The 25th day of November was the most severe day of the storm, the mercury in our sheltered cañon sinking to -16 degrees. We had hoped to kill at least five more buffaloes by the time Private West should arrive with the wagons; but when at the end of a week the storm had spent itself, the snow was so deep that hunting was totally impossible save in the vicinity of camp, where there was nothing to kill. We expected the wagons by the 3d of December, but they did not come that day nor within the next three. By the 6th the snow had melted off sufficiently that a buffalo hunt was once more possible, and Mr. McNaney and I decided to make a final trip to the Buffalo Buttes. The state of the ground made it impossible for us to go there and return the same day, so we took a pack-horse and arranged to camp out.
When a little over half-way to our old rendezvous we came upon three buffaloes in the bad grounds, one of which was an enormous old bull, the next largest was an adult cow, and the third a two-year-old heifer. Mr. McNaney promptly knocked down the old cow, while I devoted my attention to the bull; but she presently got up and made off unnoticed at the precise moment Mr. McNaney was absorbed in watching my efforts to bring down the old bull. After a short chase my horse carried me alongside my buffalo, and as he turned toward me I gave him a shot through the shoulder, breaking the fore leg and bringing him promptly to the ground. I then turned immediately to pursue the young cow, but by that time she had got on the farther side of a deep gully which was filled with snow, and by the time I got my horse safely across she had distanced me. I then rode back to the old bull. When he saw me coming he got upon his feet and ran a short distance, but was easily overtaken. He then stood at bay, and halting within 30 yards of him I enjoyed the rare opportunity of studying a live bull buffalo of the largest size on foot on his native heath. I even made an outline sketch of him in my note-book. Having studied his form and outlines as much as was really necessary, I gave him a final shot through the lungs, which soon ended his career.
This was a truly magnificent specimen in every respect. He was a “stub-horn” bull, about eleven years old, much larger every way than any of the others we collected. His height at the shoulder was 5 feet 8 inches perpendicular, or 2 inches more than the next largest of our collection. His hair was in remarkably fine condition, being long, fine, thick, and well colored. The hair in his frontlet is 16 inches in length, and the thick coat of shaggy, straw-colored tufts which covered his neck and shoulders measured 4 inches. His girth behind the fore leg was 8 feet 4 inches, and his weight was estimated at 1,600 pounds.
