The Border and the Buffalo: An Untold Story of the Southwest Plains: The Bloody Border of Missouri and Kansas. The Story of the Slaughter of the Buffalo. Westward among the Big Game and Wild Tribes. A Story of Mountain and PlainCook, John R.
History
The Border and the Buffalo: An Untold Story of the Southwest Plains: The Bloody Border of Missouri and Kansas. The Story of the Slaughter of the Buffalo. Westward among the Big Game and Wild Tribes. A Story of Mountain and Plain
Cook, John R.
American bison hunting -- Southwest, New -- History -- 19th century; Cook, John R., 1844-1917; Frontier and pioneer life -- Kansas; Frontier and pioneer life -- Southwest, New; Indians of North America -- Wars -- 1866-1895; Kansas -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865; Pioneers -- Kansas -- Biography;
After looking at them a short time we all went down to camp and held a
council. Buck said if I would stay with him he would make a killing as
long as it would pay to stay; said he would give me 30 cents apiece for
all the buffaloes I would skin and peg out. That is to say: after the
hides were brought into camp and little holes cut through them around
the outer edge and pegs about six inches long, sharpened at one end and
driven into the ground through the holes, commencing the work by first
driving three pegs at the neck end of the hide, then going to the tail
end, and pulling on the hide to a proper degree and driving two pegs,
one on each side of the tail, then so on all around it, stretching the
hide in a proper and uniform shape. I told him I would stay with him
indefinitely if I could get to where I could get some clothes, a gun,
and plenty of tobacco.
I omitted, previously, to state that I was an inveterate chewer and
smoker at the time; and what made the last day of my pilgrimage to
the Adobe Walls worse was, that I ran out of both chewing and smoking
tobacco. I told Mr. Wood so the morning that I came to them; told him
"how I had missed my tobacco the day before." He gave me a piece, and
said they nearly all used it, and had plenty of it. But it did not
taste natural to me until this evening.
I now briefly gave the party my antecedents, and when I came to that
part, and had related it, of the last few days' experience, they acted
toward me more like father, mother, brothers and sisters than mere
chance acquaintances.
George Simpson said: "I'll tell you what we will do: let's hunt here a
few days until the bulk of these buffalo pass, then you and I will take
two of the horses, some coffee, salt, and a little flour, and go back
and get your gun and outfit." All of which was agreed to.
That night I slept soundly, and was awakened next morning by the
crowing of the roosters. Each family had a coop of chickens. I got up
feeling well refreshed.
After building the camp-fire, Buck and his wife came out of the tent.
We all helped to get the breakfast, and soon after eating it was
light enough to see the horses, which we soon had the harness on. We
unloaded the wagon and hitched the team to it. Then, with a steel, a
ripping-knife and a skinning-knife, together with an old Enfield rifle,
I drove up the coulée behind Buck, who was on horseback, carrying a
50-caliber Sharp's rifle, a belt buckled around his waist containing
thirty-two cartridges, besides a dozen loose ones in his coat pocket.
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