and disappeared.  True to their instincts, the hunters promptly brought out their rifles, and began to fire at the buffaloes as they ran.  A furious fusilade was kept up from the very doors of the tents, and from first to last over fifty buffaloes were killed.  Some fell headlong the instant they were hit, but the greater number ran on until their mortal wounds compelled them to halt, draw off a little way to one side, and finally fall in their death struggles.

Mr. McNaney stated that the hunters estimated the number of buffaloes on that portion of the range that winter (1881-’82) at 100,000.

It is probable, and in fact reasonably certain, that such forced-march migrations as the above were due to snow-covered pastures and a scarcity of food on the more northern ranges.  Having learned that a journey south will bring him to regions of less snow and more grass, it is but natural that so lusty a traveler should migrate.  The herds or bands which started south in the fall months traveled more leisurely, with frequent halts to graze on rich pastures.  The advance was on a very different plan, taking place in straggling lines and small groups dispersed over quite a scope of country.

Unless closely pursued, the buffalo never chose to make a journey of several miles through hilly country on a continuous run.  Even when fleeing from the attack of a hunter, I have often had occasion to notice that, if the hunter was a mile behind, the buffalo would always walk when going uphill; but as soon as the crest was gained he would begin to run, and go down the slope either at a gallop or a swift trot.  In former times, when the buffalo’s world was wide, when retreating from an attack he always ran against the wind, to avoid running upon a new danger, which showed that he depended more upon his sense of smell than his eye-sight.  During the last years of his existence, however, this habit almost totally disappeared, and the harried survivors learned to run for the regions which offered the greatest safety.  But even to-day, if a Texas hunter should go into the Staked Plains, and descry in the distance a body of animals running against the wind, he would, without a moment’s hesitation, pronounce them buffaloes, and the chances are that he would be right.

In winter the buffalo used to face the storms, instead of turning tail and “drifting” before them helplessly, as domestic cattle do.  But at the same time, when beset by a blizzard, he would wisely seek shelter from it in some narrow and deep valley or system of ravines.  There the herd would lie down and wait patiently for the storm to cease.  After a heavy fall of snow, the place to find the buffalo was in the flats and creek bottoms, where the tall, rank bunch-grasses showed their tops above the snow, and afforded the best and almost the only food obtainable.