Now I was not long in making up my mind that I had a first-class foot-race on my hands--as an Irishman might say--and after running some distance I looked back and saw the bison were on me at every jump. Had I only known the nature of bison, which I learned afterward were not so vicious as buffalo, I could have turned to the right or left and they would have passed on; but thinking that they were after me, I got out like a quarter-horse, putting in my best licks to try to reach a wash-out that I knew of ahead of me. Thinking that if I only could reach that ditch I might have some possible show for my life, I lost no time in getting there, but got right down to business and did the prettiest running I have ever done in my life. Every time I looked back I saw that the rushing herd was closer upon me, until they were within a few feet, and by the time I reached the ditch I fancied that I could feel the breath from the nostrils of a half dozen bison on the rear base of my buckskin trousers. Then into the ditch I went, head-long and into about four feet of water. It seemed to me that those buffalo were half an hour crossing that ditch, but I stood perfectly quiet in the water up to my waist until they had all passed over. The ditch being deep and the banks perpendicular, I had to wade the water for some distance up the ditch before I could find a place where I could climb out. I had just scrambled up the bank and shaken myself, when up came Uncle Kit and Johnnie, who had heard the report of my gun and had come to see whether or not I had killed anything. "Rather cold to go bathing," said Uncle Kit. "When I go bathin' I allus pull off my buckskin suit." But I told them I considered myself lucky to be able to find a suitable place to go swimming just at that time, and congratulated myself on being all there. Aside from my race with the bison, I put in a very pleasant winter, and Uncle Kit said he had never spent as pleasant a time in the mountains as he did that winter in South Park. "In fact," said he, "it was more like a pleasure trip than anything else." Our camp at this time was near where the town of Tarryall has since been built, and we ranged our horses in the extreme south end of the park, where they had the best kind of grazing the entire winter. It was in the latter part of March--this now being the spring of 1852--when Uncle Kit made a trip to the south end of the park to get our horses, thinking we had stayed there about as long as it was safe. During his absence Johnnie West and I were busily engaged in making preparations to start for Bent's Fort, as soon as Carson should get back with the horses. On his return he informed us that he would not leave the park until about the first of May, which was a surprise and disappointment to us both, as we had made all calculations on getting started the following day. We asked what was up that we were to be detained so long.