Here I struck the trail I had made during the previous winter, and which I now followed back across the Canadian and thence north to Grapevine Creek, where I camped two or three days. This was at the edge of the Plains. At intervals we struck small bands of bulls as we did all the way. Buffaloes were surprisingly scarce. Sometimes we killed them, and at other times did not molest them. Generally, there were from four to ten in a bunch. The scarcity of buffaloes rather discouraged us, and we redoubled our efforts to locate a big herd. We held to the east, keeping along the edge of the Plains and coming down to the Canadian between Bugbee Canyon and Big Creek. Bugbee Canyon received its name from the fact that Thomas Bugbee settled there in 1876. His was one of the first cow ranches established in the Panhandle of Texas. Charles Goodnight, whom I met first in the fall of 1875, brought his cattle that year from Colorado to Palo Duro Canyon. Mrs. Goodnight joined her husband in 1876. We were in the Bugbee Canyon country in May, 1874. The season was delightful. The air was fresh and invigorating, the grass was green, flowers were blooming, the sky was clear, the sunshine pleasant, and a feeling of joy and happiness everywhere. Those were splendid nights, out there under the stars. The mornings came with dazzling splendor. At this season sunrise on the Plains presented a scene of magnificence. I always had the feeling that it came with a thunderous sound. When we struck Big Creek I noticed a patch of lamb's quarter (wild greens), and I told the boys we would go into camp and cook a pot of green, which we did. We ate greens to our hearts' content. Searching out every point in the country, next day we followed an old trail down to the Canadian valley, striking it at a high point, afterwards known as Dixon's Point, on account of its being opposite Dixon's Creek. We soon reached Adobe Walls. All the buildings had been finished, and everybody was doing a good business. Quite a number of hunters had come down from the north, and a plain trail had been opened between Adobe Walls and Dodge City, a hundred and fifty miles away. Freight outfits were making regular trips between the two places. All of us hunters acquainted with the habits of the buffalo knew that the herds would soon be coming north from the Staked Plains region where they had spent the winter. The spring had been unusually late, which held back the buffaloes in their migration. There was nothing for us to do but wait until the buffaloes were moved by that strange impulse that twice annually caused them to change their home and blacken the Plains with their countless, moving forms. We could lie around camp or vary the monotony by going to Adobe Walls and joining in the fun that was rampant at that place. Our amusements were mostly card-playing, running horse-races, drinking whisky and shooting at targets, the latter to improve our marksmanship.