some anticipated, but camped early on a small stream bed called the Sandy. Here I had a hunt. With a few hours of leisure I went down the stream nearly two miles, and was about to turn toward the camp again, when I saw dust arising beyond a rise southward, and soon a little band of seventeen buffalo came in sight under their peculiar gallop. As they were coming in my direction I chose a situation to hide myself if necessary. Their speed seemed to increase as they came to the stream bed, which was quite narrow and nine to twelve feet deep to the little water it contained. They made no stop until they got to the water. I could not see them, but could hear their splashing and short bellows as though they might be hurting each other, though it might be satisfaction for water. It was more than five minutes before one of them got up on my side of the bank of the branch, and others followed. They were in no hurry now, and I could note and take my choice for a shot, which I did at a dark-colored yearling, and hit it behind the shoulders. The buffaloes did not start off, and I, in great hurry to drop my game, dropped a naked bullet on the powder and fired again a weak, ineffective shot. Then the herd started, but the yearling was too badly wounded to run. I started, trying to load as I went, watching the herd at the same time. It strung out nearly or quite one hundred yards, a large bull keeping between me and my quarry behind. The bull stopped and turned round still till the herd and wounded calf passed him, and then turned and followed. It looked to me like the bull was intelligently acting as rear guard. I followed, hoping they would stop and give me another chance to make a sure shot, as the last bullet from my pouch was in my gun. But darkness fell quite suddenly on the wide plain, and I turned campward without game, but felt I had seen some of the home habits of the buffalo.
