The daily morning journal and courier., 1904-12-03

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 her head. As I approached, the little fellow let go his hold, and after brief but suspicious glance, he trotted round to the other side Of his mother, thus placing her body between himself and me. went a little nearer but not much, for the old COW buffalo wheeled right round and faced me. There was no mistaking her attitude; it said, as plainly as though she had spoken the words, If you come another foot, I'll charge you;" and as there were no trees near enough to be of any use, I pressed the button" at once and with drew. The herd was now becoming un- easy, and my friend, the young bull be- fore mentioned, gave loud grunt and dashed away toward the valley, with two or three others close in his wake. I knew that to stop the stampede now would be about as easy as to stop an avalanche or a. landslide, so I stood apart and gave them plent of room. One great flying wedge of brown, with the four-year-old bull at its apex, they went laundering down the hill, and through the valley along the bank of the brooks. Then in long string, they filed up a hill to the west. along the ridge, and down into a valley be- yond. As I watched them through the glass from hill top, could see, in a hollow which was crossed by the trail, another, smaller herd of buffaloes, ly- ing at rest, and in the apple orchard further to the south was still another herd; and as the main body went through, these smaller ones fell in with them, until about hundred and fifty buffaloes were oh the march. Laden as I was, it semed wiser to give them
 tirz e to slow down before attempting to come up with them, so I sat down by the brook and had my lunch. When I overlook the buffaloes, they were about Ito enter a wood, and here I photo- graphed them again. As they moved
 through the wood, they presented a strange appearance. The trail was dimly lighted, and was filled with a |surging mass of great hairy beasts, parts only of whose outlines could be
 seen. Now and then few rays of sunshine filtered through the trees, adn
 for a moment lighted up rolling sea Iof humps and glinted from the we'll Icurved horns. Here, Gustav Dore or
 Eugene Grasset would have found the subject for a weird painting; the Icamera has its limitations
 After leaving this wood, they went along the trail over a stretch of rolling
 ground and then entered another wood, and finally came out into an orchard
 Here, small band of elk. two stage and three does, were feeding, but on seeing me, they started eastward toward the hills. Before going very far. however, they turned too look at
 me. and got photograph of them in the act. Tn the orchard there is 8 tsalt lick, and here some of the buffa- loes paused for few moments before
 going over the hills to the westward
 They seemed no longer afraid of me and approached, and photographed them pretty much as liked, the diff cult part of the work consisting in get ting them against backgrounds which would give sufficient contrast and ir keeping a sharp lookout for certain savage old bulls, one of which had given me hard run for my life g month or two before.
 The sln was setting behind the Green. Mountains when the buffaloes gathefed together on the top of a hill for the night. As I was quietly ap. preaching the southern end of the herd. few of the animals moved lapart and disclosed three elk, a stag and two does, calmly feeding with the buffaIoes. They, were but few yards | from me, but the presence of buffaloes evidently gave them such a feeling oi Isecurity that their usual great caution was for time being laid aside. Ever when, few moments later, they raised their heads and saw me stand ling there, they were surprised rather lthen alarmed. They did not feed Iagain, however, but after watching me 1 for several minutes they gradually moved away. Then I, too, moved away from the herd, and from rock watched the light fade on the figures 1 of the buffaloes. And as I watched them melting away into the back. ground, one by one they sank to tht lground, until at last the entire hero was lying at rest in the long dry grass. <,
 ERNEST HAROLD BlAYNES. s3ss5s