Hunting -- West (U.S.); Indians of North America -- West (U.S.); West (U.S.) -- Description and travel
We could not have chosen a better spot than this for our mid-day rest,
as our horses found the best grass, the clearest spring water flowed
close past us, and the virgin forest offered us its cool shade. We
therefore quickly unsaddled, hobbled our horses, and set to work cooking
the turkey. We unwillingly left this pleasant spot a few hours later,
and were obliged to ride a couple of miles up the forest before we found
a buffalo path wide enough for us to pass through. For about an hour we
rode through the leafy labyrinth, ere we reached the open plain again on
the other side. Here Tiger rode up to me again, and talking and jesting,
we kept our horses at a brisk amble, while Jack trotted after us.
Suddenly I heard a "hugh!" from Tiger's lips, and pointing to the ground
before us he stopped and said that the buffalo dung on the path was
quite fresh and the animals must be in the vicinity. He galloped on and
we soon reached a narrow wood, which ran through the prairie in nearly
the same direction we were following, and through whose centre ran a
small stream. We had scarcely reached this wood ere Tiger leapt from his
horse, pointed to the ground before us, then pointed to his ears, and
made a motion with his hands as if breaking a stick. He sprang away with
the lightness of an antelope, scarce touching the ground with his toes,
and never treading on a branch, which might produce a sound; then he
suddenly stopped, lowered his head slightly and listened for some
minutes. After which he shot ahead again at such a pace that I could
hardly keep up with him. He presently lay down on the ground and made me
a sign with his hand that the buffaloes were entering the water just
under us, and were going across to the prairie. In a few minutes he
leapt up again, signed to me to follow him, and flew down the wood,
through the stream, and up the other bank, where we arrived behind the
last bush on the prairie, just as the buffaloes had only gone a few
yards along it, and two of them were standing on the other side of the
bush and staring intently at us.
We both had our rifles raised and I gave Tiger a nod to fire first. I
kept the sight between the eyes of the buffalo, standing on the right,
and as the flame poured from Tiger's gun, I fired and ran round the bush
to be able to use the other barrel; but it was unnecessary, for the two
gigantic animals were rolling on the ground at the last gasp. Tiger's
buffalo was shot through the heart, and the bullet had smashed the skull
of mine. We hurried to our horses and packed the best bits of our ample
booty on faithful Jack's back.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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