A succession of single shouts from various directions sounded from beyond the hill which they were now passing, and suddenly swelled into a long, howling, shrieking chorus that was echoed by maddened bellowings as from a thousand bulls. With difficulty the horses allowed themselves to be held in, and as they were walked past the final spur of the hill, a truly wonderful sight broke on the spectators. They had come to the mouth of a pleasant, grassy valley, in the midst of which a herd of over two hundred bison were running hither and thither, butting each other, falling over, or trying furiously to reach the slopes; while, down the hill on either side, a great troop of mounted Indians swept like a torrent; spears slung at their backs, arrows flying from the bows in their hands. With all the order and method of a cavalry brigade, they slackened their speed suddenly, and, spreading out, formed themselves into a huge circle; then straightway continued with their spears the work of slaughter which their arrows had begun. For ever on the move, now to right, now to left, now charging into the heaving brown mass, they plied their lances untiringly, time after time avoiding, with no visible effort, the desperate charge of one or other of the bisons. To a man who loved sport, but not slaughter, it was a revolting sight; yet fascinating as well, by reason of the skill and pertinacity which these savages displayed in their task of blood. Now and then one or two energetic bulls would force a way through some opening in the line, in the fond hope of being allowed to flee over the hills; but there was always some vigilant horseman ready to give chase or else to send half a dozen arrows in rapid succession, and so to cut short the creature's chance of escape. Not till every bison lay dead did the redskins stay their hands or condescend to turn an eye on the onlookers who had drawn up at the entrance to the valley. Bartlett waited with curiosity to see what the Indians' next move would be. As concerned himself they might be perfectly harmless; already he had come to the conclusion that the redskin is a very much maligned man; but, whether harmless or offensive, the hunters had now caught sight of the waggon, and to attempt to flee before men, mounted as well as they were, would only be a ridiculous waste of energy. A few turned their horses his way, but the great majority continued to hunt down the game; but whatever work these had still to do, was very soon done; for, by the time their brethren had come up with the waggon, they were following in their wake.