FootNote
The new kid on the block, FootNote is known for digitizing historical
documents... many of which are genealogical gems. With naturalizations,
city directories, war records, newspapers, town records, etc... this new
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While we know our northern friends may not feel it, in the South, Spring is
here. So we thought we'd share a few of our gardening sites appropriate
for this time of the year. Along with gardening, there's grilling, and getting
ready to diet so that you can fit back into that bathing suit this summer!
The country before us was
now thronged with buffalo, and a sketch of
the manner of hunting them will not be out
of place. There are two methods commonly
practiced, "running" and "approaching." The
chase on horseback, which goes by the name
of "running," is the more violent and
dashing mode of the two. Indeed, of all
American wild sports, this is the wildest.
Once among the buffalo, the hunter, unless
long use has made him familiar with the
situation, dashes forward in utter
recklessness and self-abandonment. He thinks
of nothing, cares for nothing but the game;
his mind is stimulated to the highest pitch,
yet intensely concentrated on one object. In
the midst of the flying herd, where the
uproar and the dust are thickest, it never
wavers for a moment; he drops the rein and
abandons his horse to his furious career; he
levels his gun, the report sounds faint amid
the thunder of the buffalo; and when his
wounded enemy leaps in vain fury upon him,
his heart thrills with a feeling like the
fierce delight of the battlefield. A
practiced and skillful hunter, well mounted,
will sometimes kill five or six cows in a
single chase, loading his gun again and
again as his horse rushes through the
tumult. An exploit like this is quite beyond
the capacities of a novice. In attacking a
small band of buffalo, or in separating a
single animal from the herd and assailing it
apart from the rest, there is less
excitement and less danger. With a bold and
well trained horse the hunter may ride so
close to the buffalo that as they gallop
side by side he may reach over and touch him
with his hand; nor is there much danger in
this as long as the buffalo's strength and
breath continue unabated; but when he
becomes tired and can no longer run at ease,
when his tongue lolls out and foam flies
from his jaws, then the hunter had better
keep at a more respectful distance; the
distressed brute may turn upon him at any
instant; and especially at the moment when
he fires his gun. The wounded buffalo
springs at his enemy; the horse leaps
violently aside; and then the hunter has
need of a tenacious seat in the saddle, for
if he is thrown to the ground there is no
hope for him. When he sees his attack
defeated the buffalo resumes his flight, but
if the shot be well directed he soon stops;
for a few moments he stands still, then
totters and falls heavily upon the prairie.
The chief difficulty in running buffalo, as
it seems to me, is that of loading the gun
or pistol at full gallop. Many hunters for
convenience' sake carry three or four
bullets in the mouth; the powder is poured
down the muzzle of the piece, the bullet
dropped in after it, the stock struck hard
upon the pommel of the saddle, and the work
is done. The danger of this method is
obvious. Should the blow on the pommel fail
to send the bullet home, or should the
latter, in the act of aiming, start from its
place and roll toward the muzzle, the gun
would probably burst in discharging. Many a
shattered hand and worse casualties besides
have been the result of such an accident. To
obviate it, some hunters make use of a
ramrod, usually hung by a string from the
neck, but this materially increases the
difficulty of loading. The bows and arrows
which the Indians use in running buffalo
have many advantages over fire arms, and
even white men occasionally employ them.
The danger of the chase arises not so much
from the onset of the wounded animal as from
the nature of the ground which the hunter
must ride over. The prairie does not always
present a smooth, level, and uniform
surface; very often it is broken with hills
and hollows, intersected by ravines, and in
the remoter parts studded by the stiff
wild-sage bushes. The most formidable
obstructions, however, are the burrows of
wild animals, wolves, badgers, and
particularly prairie dogs, with whose holes
the ground for a very great extent is
frequently honeycombed. In the blindness of
the chase the hunter rushes over it
unconscious of danger; his horse, at full
career, thrusts his leg deep into one of the
burrows; the bone snaps, the rider is hurled
forward to the ground and probably killed.
Yet accidents in buffalo running happen less
frequently than one would suppose; in the
recklessness of the chase, the hunter enjoys
all the impunity of a drunken man, and may
ride in safety over the gullies and
declivities where, should he attempt to pass
in his sober senses, he would infallibly
break his neck.
The method of "approaching," being practiced
on foot, has many advantages over that of
"running"; in the former, one neither breaks
down his horse nor endangers his own life;
instead of yielding to excitement he must be
cool, collected, and watchful; he must
understand the buffalo, observe the features
of the country and the course of the wind,
and be well skilled, moreover, in using the
rifle. The buffalo are strange animals;
sometimes they are so stupid and infatuated
that a man may walk up to them in full sight
on the open prairie, and even shoot several
of their number before the rest will think
it necessary to retreat. Again at another
moment they will be so shy and wary, that in
order to approach them the utmost skill,
experience, and judgment are necessary. Kit
Carson, I believe, stands pre-eminent in
running buffalo; in approaching, no man
living can bear away the palm from Henry
Chatillon.
To resume the story: After Tete Rouge had
alarmed the camp, no further disturbance
occurred during the night. The Arapahoes did
not attempt mischief, or if they did the
wakefulness of the party deterred them from
effecting their purpose. The next day was
one of activity and excitement, for about
ten o'clock the men in advance shouted the
gladdening cry of "Buffalo, buffalo!" and in
the hollow of the prairie just below us, a
band of bulls were grazing. The temptation
was irresistible, and Shaw and I rode down
upon them. We were badly mounted on our
traveling horses, but by hard lashing we
overtook them, and Shaw, running alongside
of a bull, shot into him both balls of his
double-barreled gun. Looking round as I
galloped past, I saw the bull in his mortal
fury rushing again and again upon his
antagonist, whose horse constantly leaped
aside, and avoided the onset. My chase was
more protracted, but at length I ran close
to the bull and killed him 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, and
from amid the multitude rose little columns
of dust where the buffalo were rolling on
the ground. Here and there a great confusion
was perceptible, where a battle was going
forward among the bulls. We could distinctly
see them rushing against each other, and
hear the clattering of their horns and their
hoarse bellowing. Shaw was riding at some
distance in advance, with Henry Chatillon; I
saw him stop and draw the leather covering
from his gun. Indeed, with such a sight
before us, but one thing could be thought
of. That morning I had used pistols in the
chase. I had now a mind to try the virtue of
a gun. Delorier had one, and I rode up to
the side of the cart; there he sat under the
white covering, biting his pipe between his
teeth and grinning with excitement.
"Lend me your gun, Delorier," said I.
"Oui, monsieur, oui," said Delorier, tugging
with might and main to stop the mule, which
seemed obstinately bent on going forward.
Then everything but his moccasins
disappeared as he crawled into the cart and
pulled at the gun to extricate it.
"Is it loaded?" I asked.
"Oui, bien charge; you'll kill, mon
bourgeois; yes, you'll kill—c'est un bon
fusil."
I handed him my rifle and rode forward to
Shaw.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Come on," said I.
"Keep down that hollow," said Henry, "and
then they won't see you till you get close
to them."
The hollow was a kind of ravine very wide
and shallow; it ran obliquely toward the
buffalo, and we rode at a canter along the
bottom until it became too shallow, when we
bent close to our horses' necks, and then
finding that it could no longer conceal us,
came out of it and rode directly toward the
herd. It was within gunshot; before its
outskirts, numerous grizzly old bulls were
scattered, holding guard over their females.
They glared at us in anger and astonishment,
walked toward us a few yards, and then
turning slowly round retreated at a trot
which afterward broke into a clumsy gallop.
In an instant the main body caught the
alarm. The buffalo began to crowd away from
the point toward which we were approaching,
and a gap was opened in the side of the
herd. We entered it, still restraining our
excited horses. Every instant the tumult was
thickening. The buffalo, pressing together
in large bodies, crowded away from us on
every hand. In front and on either side we
could see dark columns and masses, half
hidden by clouds of dust, rushing along in
terror and confusion, and hear the tramp and
clattering of ten thousand hoofs. That
countless multitude of powerful brutes,
ignorant of their own strength, were flying
in a panic from the approach of two feeble
horsemen. To remain quiet longer was
impossible.
"Take that band on the left," said Shaw;
"I'll take these in front."
He sprang off, and I saw no more of him. A
heavy Indian whip was fastened by a band to
my wrist; I swung it into the air and lashed
my horse's flank with all the strength of my
arm. Away she darted, stretching close to
the ground. I could see nothing but a cloud
of dust before me, but I knew that it
concealed a band of many hundreds of
buffalo. In a moment I was in the midst of
the cloud, half suffocated by the dust and
stunned by the trampling of the flying herd;
but I was drunk with the chase and cared for
nothing but the buffalo. Very soon a long
dark mass became visible, looming through
the dust; then I could distinguish each
bulky carcass, the hoofs flying out beneath,
the short tails held rigidly erect. In a
moment I was so close that I could have
touched them with my gun. Suddenly, to my
utter amazement, the hoofs were jerked
upward, the tails flourished in the air, and
amid a cloud of dust the buffalo seemed to
sink into the earth before me. One vivid
impression of that instant remains upon my
mind. I remember looking down upon the backs
of several buffalo dimly visible through the
dust. We had run unawares upon a ravine. At
that moment I was not the most accurate
judge of depth and width, but when I passed
it on my return, I found it about twelve
feet deep and not quite twice as wide at the
bottom. It was impossible to stop; I would
have done so gladly if I could; so, half
sliding, half plunging, down went the little
mare. I believe she came down on her knees
in the loose sand at the bottom; I was
pitched forward violently against her neck
and nearly thrown over her head among the
buffalo, who amid dust and confusion came
tumbling in all around. The mare was on her
feet in an instant and scrambling like a cat
up the opposite side. I thought for a moment
that she would have fallen back and crushed
me, but with a violent effort she clambered
out and gained the hard prairie above.
Glancing back I saw the huge head of a bull
clinging as it were by the forefeet at the
edge of the dusty gulf. At length I was
fairly among the buffalo. They were less
densely crowded than before, and I could see
nothing but bulls, who always run at the
rear of the herd. As I passed amid them they
would lower their heads, and turning as they
ran, attempt to gore my horse; but as they
were already at full speed there was no
force in their onset, and as Pauline ran
faster than they, they were always thrown
behind her in the effort. I soon began to
distinguish cows amid the throng. One just
in front of me seemed to my liking, and I
pushed close to her side. Dropping the reins
I fired, holding the muzzle of the gun
within a foot of her shoulder. Quick as
lightning she sprang at Pauline; the little
mare dodged the attack, and I lost sight of
the wounded animal amid the tumultuous
crowd. Immediately after I selected another,
and urging forward Pauline, shot into her
both pistols in succession. For a while I
kept her in view, but in attempting to load
my gun, lost sight of her also in the
confusion. Believing her to be mortally
wounded and unable to keep up with the herd,
I checked my horse. The crowd rushed onward.
The dust and tumult passed away, and on the
prairie, far behind the rest, I saw a
solitary buffalo galloping heavily. In a
moment I and my victim were running side by
side. My firearms were all empty, and I had
in my pouch nothing but rifle bullets, too
large for the pistols and too small for the
gun. I loaded the latter, however, but as
often as I leveled it to fire, the little
bullets would roll out of the muzzle and the
gun returned only a faint report like a
squib, as the powder harmlessly exploded. I
galloped in front of the buffalo and
attempted to turn her back; but her eyes
glared, her mane bristled, and lowering her
head, she rushed at me with astonishing
fierceness and activity. Again and again I
rode before her, and again and again she
repeated her furious charge. But little
Pauline was in her element. She dodged her
enemy at every rush, until at length the
buffalo stood still, exhausted with her own
efforts; she panted, and her tongue hung
lolling from her jaws.
Riding to a little distance I alighted,
thinking to gather a handful of dry grass to
serve the purpose of wadding, and load the
gun at my leisure. No sooner were my feet on
the ground than the buffalo came bounding in
such a rage toward me that I jumped back
again into the saddle with all possible
dispatch. After waiting a few minutes more,
I made an attempt to ride up and stab her
with my knife; but the experiment proved
such as no wise man would repeat. At length,
bethinking me of the fringes at the seams of
my buckskin pantaloons, I jerked off a few
of them, and reloading my gun, forced them
down the barrel to keep the bullet in its
place; then approaching, I shot the wounded
buffalo through the heart. Sinking to her
knees, she rolled over lifeless on the
prairie. To my astonishment, I found that
instead of a fat cow I had been slaughtering
a stout yearling bull. No longer wondering
at the fierceness he had shown, I opened his
throat and cutting out his tongue, tied it
at the back of my saddle. My mistake was one
which a more experienced eye than mine might
easily make in the dust and confusion of
such a chase.
Then for the first time I had leisure to
look at the scene around me. The prairie in
front was darkened with the retreating
multitude, and on the other hand the buffalo
came filing up in endless unbroken columns
from the low plains upon the river. The
Arkansas was three or four miles distant. I
turned and moved slowly toward it. A long
time passed before, far down in the
distance, I distinguished the white covering
of the cart and the little black specks of
horsemen before and behind it. Drawing near,
I recognized Shaw's elegant tunic, the red
flannel shirt, conspicuous far off. I
overtook the party, and asked him what
success he had met with. He had assailed a
fat cow, shot her with two bullets, and
mortally wounded her. But neither of us were
prepared for the chase that afternoon, and
Shaw, like myself, had no spare bullets in
his pouch; so he abandoned the disabled
animal to Henry Chatillon, who followed,
dispatched her with his rifle, and loaded
his horse with her meat.
We encamped close to the river. The night
was dark, and as we lay down we could hear
mingled with the howling of wolves the
hoarse bellowing of the buffalo, like the
ocean beating upon a distant coast.
