I soon had thirteen down, the last one of which I had driven close to the wagons, where the ladies were watching the contest.  It frightened some of the tender creatures to see a buffalo coming at full speed directly toward them, but I dropped him in his tracks before he had got within fifty yards of the wagon.  This finished my “run” with a score of sixty-nine buffaloes for the day.  Comstock had killed forty-six.

It was now late in the afternoon.  Comstock and his backers gave up the idea of beating me.  The referee declared me the winner of the match, and the champion buffalo hunter of the Plains.

On our return to camp we brought with us the best bits of meat, as well as the biggest and best buffalo heads.  The heads I always turned over to the company, which found a very good use for them.  They were mounted in the finest possible manner and sent to the principal cities along the road, as well as to the railroad centers of the country.  Here they were prominently placed at the leading hotels and in the stations, where they made an excellent advertisement for the road Today they attract the attention of travelers almost everywhere.  Often, while touring the country, I see one of them, and feel reasonably certain that I brought down the animal it once ornamented.  Many a wild and exciting hunt is thus called to my mind.

In May, 1868, the Kansas Pacific track was pushed as far as Sheridan.  Construction was abandoned for the time, and my services as buffalo hunter were no longer required.  A general Indian war was now raging all along the Western borders.  General Sheridan had taken up headquarters at Fort Hays, in order to be on the job in person.  Scouts and guides were once more in great demand, and I decided to go back to my old calling.

I did not wish to kill my faithful old Brigham by the rigors of a scouting campaign.  I had no suitable place to leave him, and determined to dispose of him.  At the suggestion of a number of friends, all of whom wanted him, I put him up at a raffle, selling ten chances at thirty dollars each, which were all quickly taken.  Ike Bonham, who won him, took him to Wyandotte, Kansas, where he soon added fresh laurels to his already shining wreath.  In the crowning event of a tournament he easily outdistanced all entries in a four-mile race to Wyandotte, winning $250 for his owner, who had been laughed at for entering such an unprepossessing animal.

I lost track of him after that.  For several years I did not know what had become of him.  But many years after, while in Memphis, I met Mr. Wilcox, who had once been superintendent of construction on the Kansas Pacific.  He informed me that he owned Brigham, and I rode out to his place to take a look at my gallant old friend.  He seemed to remember me, as I put my arms about his neck and caressed him like a long-lost child.

When I had received my appointment as guide and scout I was ordered to report to the commandant of Fort Larned, Captain Daingerfield Parker.  I knew that it would be necessary to take my family, who had been with me at Sheridan, to Leavenworth and leave them there.  This I did at once.