When pretty well down toward Fort Dodge, I had one of the most exciting hunting experiences of my life. Buffalo in great numbers were seen nearly all the way down and I was anxious to get a fine robe from an animal I had killed myself. My opportunity occurred one afternoon after we had gone into camp. I saw a good sized herd leave the river and start back to the high ground to graze, probably a mile or more away. I did not know any better than to go on foot and alone. It never occurred to me that there could be any danger. The ground was level as a floor and I got up within a hundred yards or less and picked out a large black bull that I thought would furnish the prize I was after, and fired. At the crack of the rifle he started for me and of course I turned and ran, and ran for my very life. I thought how hopeless it looked for me, for the camp seemed far away, but I did my best. Finally I could hear him close behind me and while I expected every moment to be gored it occurred that he was breathing heavily, and I kept the pace as best I could until the breathing seemed less distinct and looking over my shoulder I discovered that he had stopped running and was walking around and around. However, I kept going until I was sure I was at a safe distance and then fell on the ground and lay there for a while. My heart was beating like a trip-hammer. I had no notion then of giving up the contest and as he turned broadside to me I fired and he started, and I started for another race. He did not make much headway this time and my courage arose accordingly. Pretty soon he stopped again and commenced turning around. He did not chase me again, but it took the fourth shot before he fell. The rifles of those days were very different from the modern repeating rifles. This was a breech loader with only a single shot and it was necessary to raise up what was called the breachblock by hand and insert the cartridge, then replace the breachblock, cock the gun, and you were ready for another shot. Too slow a process when a mad buffalo is chasing you. I had been aiming for the heart but shot too high and the wound in the lungs had caused the blood to choke him so he could not keep up the pace. All four of the shots went into a space not larger than my hand and one of the bullets lodged under the skin on the opposite side which I was careful to keep as a souvenir of the chase. Some of the enlisted men who had gone out to the right for a shot came to my assistance and skinned the animal for me and carried the hide into camp. They assured me that the animal was certainly within ten or fifteen feet of me at one time during our race.