with my pistols.  Cutting off the tails of our victims by way of trophy, we rejoined the party in about a quarter of an hour after we left it.  Again and again that morning rang out the same welcome cry of “Buffalo, buffalo!” Every few moments in the broad meadows along the river, we would see bands of bulls, who, raising their shaggy heads, would gaze in stupid amazement at the approaching horsemen, and then breaking into a clumsy gallop, would file off in a long line across the trail in front, toward the rising prairie on the left.  At noon, the whole plain before us was alive with thousands of buffalo—­bulls, cows, and calves—­all moving rapidly as we drew near; and far-off beyond the river the swelling prairie was darkened with them to the very horizon.  The party was in gayer spirits than ever.  We stopped for a nooning near a grove of trees by the river side.

“Tongues and hump ribs to-morrow,” said Shaw, looking with contempt at the venison steaks which Delorier placed before us.  Our meal finished, we lay down under a temporary awning to sleep.  A shout from Henry Chatillon aroused us, and we saw him standing on the cartwheel stretching his tall figure to its full height while he looked toward the prairie beyond the river.  Following the direction of his eyes we could clearly distinguish a large dark object, like the black shadow of a cloud, passing rapidly over swell after swell of the distant plain; behind it followed another of similar appearance though smaller.  Its motion was more rapid, and it drew closer and closer to the first.  It was the hunters of the Arapahoe camp pursuing a band of buffalo.  Shaw and I hastily sought and saddled our best horses, and went plunging through sand and water to the farther bank.  We were too late.  The hunters had already mingled with the herd, and the work of slaughter was nearly over.  When we reached the ground we found it strewn far and near with numberless black carcasses, while the remnants of the herd, scattered in all directions, were flying away in terror, and the Indians still rushing in pursuit.  Many of the hunters, however, remained upon the spot, and among the rest was our yesterday’s acquaintance, the chief of the village.  He had alighted by the side of a cow, into which he had shot five or six arrows, and his squaw, who had followed him on horseback to the hunt, was giving him a draught of water out of a canteen, purchased or plundered from some volunteer soldier.  Recrossing the river we overtook the party, who were already on their way.

We had scarcely gone a mile when an imposing spectacle presented itself.  From the river bank on the right, away over the swelling prairie on the left, and in front as far as we could see, extended one vast host of buffalo.  The outskirts of the herd were within a quarter of a mile.  In many parts they were crowded so densely together that in the distance their rounded backs presented a surface of uniform blackness; but elsewhere they were more scattered,