“If you fellers want to hear how I once killed a bloomin’ buffler, blarm me to most etarnal smash if I don’t tell yer.” (oath). “I’d been a-follerin’ a herd all the ruddy day without gettin’ near enough for a shot, when all on a sudden a big bull drops astarn and looks me in the face. Wal! I fired and hit him, and darn me if I didn’t plug him seven times out of my Spencer rifle without killin’ him.” (Many oaths.) “When the big brute see as I hadn’t got a shot left, darned if he didn’t put his ruddy head down and come bang at me.” (More oaths.) “Guess I felt considerable mean, you bet! But there warn’t no time for thinkin’, and as he comes a tearin’ up, ready to give me Hell, I steps on one side, and ketchin’ hold of his mane, swings myself on to the back of him.” (Oaths of attestation.) “Wal! there I was, darn me, a-ridin’ on the ruddy buffler across the ruddy prairer. What did I do then? Why I pulled out my old knife and kep’ a-stickin’ of him in his ruddy neck till he dropped down as dead as General Washin’ton. And next day darned if me and the Captain here didn’t skin him.” Prairie Bill ended as he had begun, with a long volley of oaths. His mates joined in, swearing in sympathetic chorus—all except Captain Vogel, whom I never heard utter an oath. The night became cruelly cold; if we sat to the leeward of the fire the smoke and dung ashes were blown into our noses and eyes; if we faced it our backs were frozen; our legs were cramped sitting tailor fashion, and altogether we were so uncomfortable that we soon were glad to turn in. We lay down dressed as we were on hides stretched over the hard, frozen ground, with our rifle-cases for pillows. The camp dogs barked, and the men grunted, muttered and snored. Sleep was fitful; we were all rather crusty and dismally uncomfortable, for we were huddled together under that imposture of a tent, packed as tight as a box of figs.