(17) My companion and I, both young men, left North Platte Nebraska, early one morning in the summer of 1874, for a buffalo hunt. With all the enthusiasm of youth--anticipating good sport and the pleasure of elating it to friends upon our return--we detrained at Julesburg, intending to ride twenty-five miles up the South Platte River and put up at Charlie Moore's ranch. In Julesburg we hired two dun-colored, clean-limbed horses from Harry Entreken, who recommended them for their speed, cunning in the hunt, easy gaits, and sure-footedness.

     A glorious morning favored us as, with best wishes from Entreken, we set out on our journey. Talkative, exhilarated by the novelty of our adventure, and the mere joy of living, we were an exuberant pair.

     About ten miles up the river, the Platte Valley is two to three miles wide, sloping up to a chain of hills that continues for almost the whole width of the State. At this point, we saw two buffaloes lumbering out of the river and heading for the hills. With one accord we gave chase, but before we could overtake the animals they entered a canyon and separated. Intent on the hunt, we each marked one as his quarry and galloped on, our trails diverging accordingly.

     Following a long run through the hills the buffalo I was following escaped, and I found myself in an unfamiliar country, wondering what had become of my companion. How was I to find him? How was I to get back to the river? There were no houses dotting the prairies in those days; no place to seek directions. (18) That I was about twenty-five miles from Julesburg constituted my fund of information. For a moment I was panic-stricken. I called aloud; but no answer. Then, with all speed, I rode to the highest near-by hill and fired my gun repeatedly, while alarm for our safety increased. Finally I concluded that my friend must have reached the river and gone on to the ranch. This seemed the logical thing for him to do, since we had fifteen miles or more to travel in a country new to us, where the chances of missing the ranch after nightfall were considerable.

     Trusting to luck, I threaded my way through the buttes, and at last, reaching the river, was following its course, when suddenly, from a draw, I saw a horseman emerge. I knew at once he was not my companion--but who was he? A horse thief? cattle thief? train robber? In that country every stranger represented danger. I had little choice in the matter, however, so I rode forward, and gave my name and reason for being there. When the stranger had heard my story, he extended a friendly hand, and informed me that he was foreman of the ranch. He had not seen my friend. On his invitation I rode with him to the ranch, hoping to find my fellow hunter on my arrival, but in this I was disappointed.

     The place was a summer ranch where cows and calves were held. The foreman occupied the house alone, and after unsaddling and turning our horses into the corral, he cooked supper, and later divided his blankets with me. Throughout the night we listened in vain for my friend's arrival.

     Morning came, with my friend still missing, and was much concerned for his safety. After breakfast the foreman announced that he knew where there was a large herd of buffaloes and, venturing the opinion that our shots might attract my missing companion (19) offered to guide me on the hunt. We found the animals grazing among the buttes near the river, but with our appearance they stampeded, our mounts at once taking up the chase. In every herd there are stragglers, or tail-enders, as we called them. I was not able to pull abreast of the main herd, but these tail-enders were strung out across the prairie like the tail to a kite, and I was reconciled with bagging one of them, although I might have brought down a score.

     Anxiety for my friend, however, prevented me from enjoying the sport as I might have under happier circumstances, so bidding the foreman good-by I started back for Julesburg, keeping a sharp lookout along the way for any telltale signs. At the point where my companion and I had separated the previous day I made a long detour through the hills, half dreading what I might find, for Indians still wandered through that section in small scouting bands, and seldom failed to visit their resentment over the usurpation of their hunting-grounds on unwary pale faces.

     Indeed, I had been cautioned by the foreman to keep to level ground, where there was less danger of being cut off by the Indians. Therefore, getting no response from either my shots or shouts, I turned back to the river and headed for my destination. It was well for me, perhaps, that I did, for a few miles from the town some intuition caused me to glance quickly over my shoulder. What I saw caused a sensation around the vicinity of my scalp lock which was far from reassuring, and made me put instant spur to my horse. Ten Indians, whom I took to be Sioux, had just emerged from the hills, and were making toward me as fast as their ponies could travel. I sent a shot in their direction and, bending over my mount's neck, urged the loyal beast to its utmost exertions. Behind me I could hear the shots and yells of my pursuers, but my horse (20) plunged on, keeping a sate distance ahead of them and with his every step bringing me nearer to the sanctuary of Julesburg. Seeing that they could not overtake me before I reached the town, the Indians finally abandoned the pursuit and, with hoots of derision, rode off toward the hills whence they came.

     Entering the town, I rode up to Entreken's store with the intention of organizing a searching party to hunt for my friend, but hardly had I tied my horse when the missing one himself stepped out and grasped my hand with every evidence of relief. On exchanging experiences with him I found that he had concluded that I, too, was lost and, making no effort to find the ranch, had reconciled himself to a night in the saddle. Night coming on, however, he had dismounted to rest his bones unaccustomed to horseback riding and, tying the lariat to his leg, stretched out on the ground. But his rest was short, for presently the coyotes began howling, and "for safety's sake" he remounted and remained in the saddle until daybreak. With the coming of morning he caught a glimpse of the river, and followed it to Julesburg, full of anxiety about me.

     Rejoicing over the happy outcome of our adventure, we paid our bill, bid adieu to Harry Entreken, and took the first train to North Platte, firmly convinced that buffalo hunting had its pitfalls as well as its pleasures.

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