The Andrew County Republican. [volume] (Savannah, Mo.) 1871-1876, 1872-05-03
A Buffalo Chase-A Graphic Piece OF
Writing.

A Buffalo ChaSe-A Graphlc f1ece Oh
Writing.
We extract the following very graphic
| description of a Buffalo hunt from adj
vance sheets of Buffalo Land" a he"
and exceedingly life-like work on the
Far Vest now i'm press. and soon 10
be published by Messrs. f. Hannaford q
| Co.. publishers of first class subscription
| books. Cincinnati and Chicago:
We are moving out over the grand. II
| Jimitable pIain again. Reader. ride. WIN
Ms awhile bv the side of that big bison
| bull. which we nave just stirred up from
his noonday dream. You see his broad
nostrils- reddish Just under h dark skin
| at the end. and sensitive as the nose OF 4;
~nointer. They have caught the air which
we tainted. while passing for a
| across the breeze.
He has seen nothing. II we are still IN
visible. but he does not stop to look behind.
Escape for your life" has beena as plainly
| telepraphed from nOseto brain. as itcould
| be bv nose or mouth. We were so far OIL
| and well hidden then. that those active tell
| tales. sound and sight. could play no part
i'm this alarm. But the sentinel nerves
| fled back from their post on the frontier.
| with the cry of .'Man'' and the beast of
| the wilderness thinks only of flight.
Powerful for defense against the rest of
| the animal creation. he is coward on the
| instant before its king
Away he goes. right into the teeth of
| the wind. which he knows will tell him
of any other foes ahead. Lumber along.
| old fellow. in your pOnderOus gallOp. the
reader and | are on your path. Our sad
die girths have been tightly drawn. the
| holster pistols are nestled snug at hand,
i'm their cases on either side of the saddle
horn. while across its front lies the light
Henry carbine. with a shOulder-strap at
| taching it to our person. should We drop
the gun for the pistol. Thus we ride with
twenty-four shots. before reloading. at the
service of our trigger-finger; the carbine
carries twelve, the pistols each a halt
ldOZen.
How warm we have become. Our
hearts are as high up as they can get.
humping away at the throat-yalves, as If
they wished to get out and see what it is
that has called their reserves into action.
There is Il muskish faint in the air. from
the game ahead. Put in your spurs. COM
rade: don't spare. Get up beside him
| uuItklN Us DbSSlDIt. o1tt llItlt. t1t
horses will easily stick. A stern chase
disheartens the pursuer. encourages the
pursued. Look out for that creek. See
how the buffalo takes its steep bank-a
plunge headlOng. which sends the dust up
i'm clouds. Now, as we check and turn
into a ford. he is going up the opposite
side.
Another hundred yards. and We are
close beside him. The long tongue is hung
ont. and his head lies low down. as he
plunges steadily forward, diverging ever
SO little as We press up opposite his fore
| shoulders. That was a bad shot. my
friend. barely missing your horses head.
| Shooting at full gallOp is like drawing
straight lines while being shaken.
Some of our bullets are telling: you can
hear them crack on his side. There is a
red spot now. not bigger than the point of
ones finger. opposite a lung. and drops of
| blood trickle. with the saliva. from his
Jaws. Half a score of balls have been
| pelted into his big body. and he is bleeding
| internally. Now the blood ONE thicker.
and little clots of it drop down. He slows
up-there is danger: look well to your
seat,
That was a narrow escape. cOmrade.
| The bull suddenly whirled on his forefeet
for a pivot. and your horses chest. which
was just brushing his headquarters, gra-
| zed his black horns as they dipped for a
plunge. The pony's swerve barely saved
you both.
Now he stands sullen. glaring AT Us.
The wounds look like little points of red
paint. put deity on his shaggy hide.
They bleed inwardly. just crimsoning the
brown hair at their mouths. The large
..-, Ill ...I .,Il -, -. --I s.,-
He is measuring our distance.
See him blow the blood from his nos
trils. The drops scatter like red-hOt shot
around him. seeming to hiss in globulcs
of fury. as they Spatter upon the dry grass.
| Bladder-like bubbles >purter in ebb and
| flow. from the red holes over his lungs.
Tiny doors. for deaths messengers to
have entered in at.
What a marvel of size and ferOcity he
looks. Only our horses legs stand be
tween lis and disembowelment. Down
drops the head into battery again. ami his
! rush would knock us over like nine-pins.
| did We stay to receive it. But the bison
| charges are short ones. Our animals spring
away. and he stops. Signs of groggineSs
are coming on him. How he hates to feel
his knees shake. Strengthening them out
with a jerk. as we thought he was just
going down.
But at last gradually and gracefully he
sinks. doubling his legs under him, and
resting on his belly. There is still no fur
ry. or motion ofany kind denoting pain.
Un%conquerable to the death. at last he
falls on his side. the limbs stiffen and he
is dead.
Irvine your hands in the long beard,
and in the name. How he shames the lion.
g.. 49,. L.. .a.,l G,,.l a4,t- I,If =,
dozen times over. What switches of hair
those black fetlOcks would make. Was
there ever so big a bison:
Wondering over this. we lie down on
the PROSTATE bulk, and wait for the
WAGON