I was delighted with our remarkably good fortune in securing such a prize, for, owing to the rapidity with which the large buffaloes are being found and killed off these days, I had not hoped to capture a really old individual. Nearly every adult bull we took carried old bullets in his body, and from this one we took four of various sizes that had been fired into him on various occasions. One was found sticking fast in one of the lumbar vertebræ.[79]
After a chase of several miles Mr. McNaney finally overhauled his cow and killed her, which brought the number of buffaloes taken on the fall hunt up to twenty-two. We spent the night at the Buffalo Buttes and returned to camp the next day. Neither on that day nor the one following did the wagons arrive, and on the evening of the 8th we learned from the cowboys of the N-bar camp on Sand Creek that our courier, Private West, had not been seen or heard from since he left their camp on November 24, and evidently had got lost and frozen to death in the bad lands.
The next day we started out to search for Private West, or news of him, and spent the night with Messrs. Brodhurst and Andrews, at their camp on Sand Creek. On the 10th, Mr. McNaney and I hunted through the bad lands over the course our courier should have taken, while Messrs. Russell and Brodhurst looked through the country around the head of the Little Dry. When McNaney and I reached the LU-bar ranch that night we were greatly rejoiced at finding that West was alive, although badly frost-bitten, and in Fort Keogh.
It appears that instead of riding due east to the LU-bar ranch, he lost his way in the bad lands, where the buttes all look alike when covered with snow, and rode southwest. It is at all times an easy matter for even a cowboy to get lost in Montana if the country is new to him, and when there is snow on the ground the difficulty of finding one’s way is increased tenfold. There is not only the danger of losing one’s way, but the still greater danger of getting ingulfed in a deep coulée full of loose snow, which may easily cause both horse and rider to perish miserably. Even the most experienced riders sometimes ride into coulées which are level full of snow and hidden from sight.
Private West’s experience was a terrible one, and also a wonderful case of self-preservation. It shows what a man with a cool head and plenty of grit can go through and live. When he left us he wore two undershirts, a heavy blanket shirt, a soldier’s blouse and overcoat, two pairs of drawers, a pair of soldier’s woolen trousers, and a pair of overalls. On his feet he wore three pairs of socks, a pair of low shoes with canvas leggins, and he started with his feet tied up in burlaps. His head and hands were also well protected. He carried a 38-caliber revolver, but, by a great oversight, only six matches. When he left the N-bar camp, instead of going due east toward the LU-bar ranch, he swung around and went southwest, clear around the head of the Little Dry, and finally struck the Porcupine south of our camp. The first night out he made a fire with sage-brush, and kept it going all night. The second night he also had a fire, but it took his last match to make it. During the first three days he had no food, but on the fourth he shot a sage-cock with his revolver, and ate it raw. This effort, however, cost him his last cartridge. Through hard work and lack of food his pony presently gave out, and necessitated long and frequent stops for rest. West’s feet threatened to freeze, and he cut off the skirts of his overcoat to wrap them with, in place of the gunny sacking, that had been worn to rags. Being afraid to go to sleep at night, he slept by snatches in the warmest part of the day, while resting his horse.
On the 5th day he began to despair of succor, although he still toiled southward through the bad lands toward the Yellowstone, where people lived. On the envelopes which contained my letters he kept a diary of his wanderings, which could tell his story when the cowboys would find his body on the spring round-up.
On the afternoon of the sixth day he found a trail and followed it until nearly night, when he came to Cree’s sheep ranch, and found the solitary ranchman at home. The warm-hearted frontiersman gave the starving wanderers, man and horse, such a welcome as they stood in need of. West solemnly declares that in twenty-four hours he ate a whole sheep. After two or three days of rest and feeding both horse and rider were able to go on, and in course of time reached Fort Keogh.
Without the loss of a single day Colonel Gibson started three teams and an escort up to us, and notwithstanding his terrible experience, West had the pluck to accompany them as guide. His arrival among us once more was like the dead coming to life again. The train reached our camp on the 13th, and on the 15th we pulled out for Miles City, loaded to the wagon-bows with specimens, forage, and camp plunder.
From our camp down to the HV ranch, at the mouth of Sand Creek, the trail was in a terrible condition. But, thanks to the skill and judgment of the train-master, Mr. Ed. Haskins, and his two drivers, who also knew their business well, we got safely and in good time over the dangerous part of our road. Whenever our own tired and overloaded team got stuck in the mud, or gave out, there was always a pair of mules ready to hitch on and help us out. As a train-master, Mr. Haskins was a perfect model, skillful, pushing, good-tempered, and very obliging.
From the HV ranch to Miles City the trail was in fine condition, and we went in as rapidly as possible, fearing to be caught in the snow-storm which threatened us all the way in. We reached Miles City on December 20, with our collection complete and in fine condition, and the next day a snow-storm set in which lasted until the 25th, and resulted in over a foot of snow. The ice running in the Yellowstone stopped all the ferry-boats, and it was with good reason that we congratulated ourselves on the successful termination of our hunt at that particular time. Without loss of time Mr. Brown and I packed our collection, which tilled twenty-one large cases, turned in our equipage at Fort Keogh, sold our horses, and started on our homeward journey. In due course of time the collection reached the Museum in good condition, and a series of the best specimens it contains has already been mounted.