When the blood begins to flow freely the herd becomes very much _excited_; and while horning the wounded ones and pawing in the blood, with tails lashing the air, and almost deafening you with their bellowing, it is enough to terrify an inexperienced hunter. And any person who has _been there_, I assure you, will make himself just as scarce as possible on such occasions; for a wounded buffalo is very dangerous. When the herd leaves,--from the hunter ceasing to fire, or making a mis-shot,--the _skinners_ come up and go to work, and the hunter follows up the herd on foot and takes down one here and there, and tries for another stand, which depends very much upon his skill as a hunter. Sometimes this chase is kept up all day, and the hunter has no success until about _sundown_, when they have become somewhat used to the crack of the rifle, and being tired and hungry they slacken up; and while fighting the wounded ones the hunter gets in a few good shots, and right there loads his wagons. When the wagons are well loaded they start for camp to unload the hides and stretch them out to dry. Several hundred hides being sometimes stretched out at one camp, it presents quite an attractive scene. When the hides are _dry_, they are put in piles of ten apiece, and staked and tied down. In the spring they are hauled to market. Sometimes the meat is jerked, which is done as follows: The hump, shoulder-clods, and saddles are the only parts used. This meat is cut in strips as thick as a man’s wrist, and after being seasoned is hung upon wooden racks in the sun, and a slow fire built under it to smoke; and in about two days it is jerked. This meat can be taken to the _mountains_ in the spring and sold readily for fifteen and twenty cents per pound. This is the way it is done; and when the herd changes its range, as it often does, you must then pull up and follow, and again locate; though you can hunt from one hundred to one hundred and fifty miles around one camp.