We were fortunate in the first run in getting good ground.  Comstock was mounted on one of his favorite horses, while I rode old Brigham.  I felt confident that I had the advantage of Comstock in two things—­first, I had the best buffalo horse that ever made a track; and second, I was using what was known at that time as the needle-gun, a breech-loading Springfield rifle—­calibre 50,—­it was my favorite old “Lucretia,” which has already been introduced to the notice of the reader; while Comstock was armed with a Henry rifle, and although he could fire a few shots quicker than I could, yet I was pretty certain that it did not carry powder and lead enough to do execution equal to my calibre 50.

At last the time came to begin the match.  Comstock and I dashed into a herd, followed by the referees.  The buffaloes separated; Comstock took the left bunch and I the right.  My great forte in killing buffaloes from horseback was to get them circling by riding my horse at the head of the herd, shooting the leaders, thus crowding their followers to the left, till they would finally circle round and round.

On this morning the buffaloes were very accommodating, and I soon had them running in a beautiful circle, when I dropped them thick and fast, until I had killed thirty-eight; which finished my run.

Comstock began shooting at the rear of the herd, which he was chasing, and they kept straight on.  He succeeded, however, in killing twenty-three, but they were scattered over a distance of three miles, while mine lay close together.  I had “nursed” my buffaloes, as a billiard-player does the balls when he makes a big run.

After the result of the first run had been duly announced, our St. Louis excursion friends—­who had approached to the place where we had stopped—­set out a lot of champagne, which they had brought with them, and which proved a good drink on a Kansas prairie, and a buffalo hunter was a good man to get away with it.

While taking a short rest, we suddenly spied another herd of buffaloes coming toward us.  It was only a small drove, and we at once prepared to give the animals a lively reception.  They proved to be a herd of cows and calves—­which, by the way, are quicker in their movements than the bulls.  We charged in among them, and I concluded my run with a score of eighteen, while Comstock killed fourteen.  The score now stood fifty-six to thirty-seven, in my favor.

Again the excursion party approached, and once more the champagne was tapped.  After we had eaten a lunch which was spread for us, we resumed the hunt.  Striking out for a distance of three miles, we came up close to another herd.  As I was so far ahead of my competitor in the number killed, I thought I could afford to give an extra exhibition of my skill.  I had told the ladies that I would, on the next run, ride my horse without saddle or bridle.  This had raised the excitement to fever heat among the excursionists, and I remember one fair lady who endeavored to prevail upon me not to attempt it.