This wound caused the maddened beast to spring backwards, and I dashed
past him as he vainly endeavoured to gore and overthrow my horse. The
chase was now over, the buffalo stopped and soon rolled on the ground
perfectly helpless. I had just finished him with two other arrows, when,
for the first time, I perceived that I was no longer alone. Thirty or
forty well-mounted Indians were quietly looking at me in an approving
manner, as if congratulating me on my success. They were the Comanches
we had been so long seeking for. I made myself known to them, and
claimed the hospitality which a year before had been offered to me by
their chief, "the white raven." They all surrounded me and welcomed me
in the most kind manner. Three of them started to fetch my rifle and to
join my companions, who were some eight or nine miles eastward, while I
followed my new friends to their encampment, which was but a few miles
distant. They had been buffalo hunting, and had just reached the top of
the swell when they perceived me and my victim. Of course, I and my two
friends were well received in the wigwam, though the chief was absent
upon an expedition, and when he returned a few days after, a great feast
was given, during which some of the young men sang a little impromptu
poem, on the subject of my recent chase.
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