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Updated: June 28, 2025
As scouts and guides were in great demand, I concluded once more to take up my old avocation of scouting and guiding for the army. Having no suitable place in which to leave my old and faithful buffalo-hunter Brigham, and not wishing to kill him by scouting, I determined to dispose of him.
If you said one word to my lass " "No, Father. You don't understand. I found a camp of whiskey-traders, and I stole up and smashed four-five kegs. I meant to slip away, but this man caught me. When he rushed at me I was afraid so I slashed at him with my knife. We fought." "You fought," her father repeated. "He didn't know I was a girl not at first." The buffalo-hunter passed that point.
The McRaes don't cry back on a bargain," the dour old buffalo-hunter said. "But first we'll look at this young man's arm. Get water and clean rags, Jess." Morse flushed beneath the dark tan of his cheeks. "My arm's all right. It'll keep till I get back to camp." "No such thing, my lad. We'll tie it up here and now. If my lass cut your arm, she'll bandage the wound." "She'll not.
Horse, mules, and oxen, as well as their owner, were far away upon the prairies. Their owner was Carlos the cibolero. Such was the home of the buffalo-hunter, the home of his aged mother and fair sister. Such had been their home since Carlos was a child. And yet they were not of the people of the valley nor the town. Neither race Spanish nor Indian claimed them.
The huge animal lurched, staggered a few yards farther, then dropped within a dozen feet of the terrified child. A shout of relief went up, and while a crowd of praising men gathered about the embryo buffalo-hunter, Mamie was taken to her mother. Will never relished hearing his praises sung, and as the camp was determined to pedestal him as a hero, he ran away and hid in his tent.
During one of these dull spells, when the company was pressed for horses, Brigham was hitched to a scraper. One can imagine his indignation. A racer dragging a street-car would have no more just cause for rebellion than a buffalo-hunter tied to a work implement in the company of stupid horses that never had a thought above a plow, a hay-rake, or a scraper.
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