THE KING OF THE THUNDERING HERD CLARENCE HAWK fY.v^s"*?-** -*! ?*' *.' v ~''Vt> - s" .- ; --;* S^v-'. THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESENTED BY PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID '^B^^^V^--. .... \- .:.-' V. -4 ^*ifcv^ THE KING OF THE THUNDERING HERD The Biography of an American Bison HE SET His TEETH AND GRIPPED THE BUFFALO WITH His LEGS sfgSywf&f'f' f *fJfjr-f'Zlllr-%- v lii/L- jri tiy, Vg vi5/";c - *i *L flg^FTHE BIOGRAPHY OF Ipf^f" AN AMERICAN BISON ^v' CLARENCE^ HAWKES ^ AUTHOR OF " ^ J A WILDERNESS DOfr ^ \ 1 THE BIOGRAPHY OP A WOLF SHOVELHORNS THE BIOGRAPHY OF A MOOSE BLACK BRUIN THE BIOGRAPHY Of A BEAR SHAGGYCOAT THE BIOGRAPHY Of A BIAVER etc. CHARLES COPEUWD PHILADELPHIA GEORGE W.JACOBS & C9 PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1911, by GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY Published September, 1911 All rights reservnl Printed in U. S. A. > Dedicated tt MT FELLOW MEMBERS OF THE AMERICAN BISON SOCIETT and is written in hopes that tht tragic story of the Buffalo, which so closely parallels that of the red man, may awaken both your interest and your sympathy, so that you may help in the work of our society in reclaiming the King of the Plains for the North American continent INTRODUCTORY. THE KINO OF THE PLAINS 11 I. CROSSING THE GREAT PLAINS . . 31 II. THE THUNDERING HERD ... 53 III. LITTLE BIGHEAD .... 87 IV. A STRANGE BIDE . . . .127 V. THE NEW KING 163 VL THE BIGHT OF WAY .... 195 VH. Boors AND SADDLES . . . .231 VHL THE LAST PISKUN .... 265 DL THE LAND OF THE MUSKEG 287 HE SET His TEETH AND GRIPPED THE BUFFALO WITH His LEGS . . Frontispiece THE MAD, GALLOPING, SURLY HERD WAS ALL ABOUT THEM Facing page THE SEASONED FIGHTER DROVE BUCK TO THE SIDE OF THE BUTTE ... " " A MIGHTY BISON LOOMED UP DARKLY AGAINST THE MOON . " " LIKE A FLASH, THE CAYUSE SHOT THROUGH THE OPENING . . 76 186 222 280 INTRODUCTORY THE KING OF THE PLAINS INTRODUCTORY THE KING OF THE PLAINS AT the opening of the last century, and even as late as 1871, when the Union Pacific Railroad cleft the great herds asunder, there roamed upon the vast American plains, stretching from the Alle- ghany Mountains to the Rockies, and from the Mexican border to the Hudson Bay country, probably the most inconceivable herd of wild animals ever ranging upon a single continent. This almost countless herd was formed of hundreds of millions of American bison, or buffalo, as they were indiscriminately called. The bison ranged even farther from the great plains than has been indicated, for in Colonial times they were found in small numbers in Western New York and Penn- 14 Introductory sylvania, while they penetrated through the Rockies to the Cascade range, so that they were quite plentiful in parts of Oregon. They also crossed the border into Mexico, while they frequently wandered as far north as the Arctic circle. Generally speaking, however, their range was the great American plains, bounded by its eastern and western mountain chains, and by the Mexican border on the south, and the Saskatchewan River on the north. Early in the last century Boone, Crocket, and their kind, together with other settlers, crossed the Alleghany Mountains to the eastern portion of the great plains, and the war upon the bison began. All the buffalo that the settlers killed and all that the Indians could take with their primitive means, however, were not as one grain of sand from the seashore, so vast was the herd. An Indian, in describing to a white trapper the prevalence of bison in a certain part of The King of the Plains 15 the west, said in his picturesque language that the country was one buffalo robe, from East to West, from North to South. Even as late as the early seventies, an army officer in riding through the Dakotas and Montana traveled for six weeks without losing sight of buffalo. No matter whether it was morning, midday, or evening, upon the crest of a swell, or in a coulee, the vast rolling plains were always dotted with buffalo. Buffalo standing up and lying down, some eating grass and others content- edly chewing their cuds, but always buffalo. Another army officer tells of his experience farther south, in Arkansas, where he en- countered a portion of the southern herd. This herd was fairly compact and moving rapidly, and as near as he could estimate, was seventy miles long, and thirty miles wide. For three days the bison galloped by, while a squad of puny American soldiers cowered in a sheltering ravine, not daring 16 Introductory to stir outside for fear that they would be trampled to death under the hoofs of the migrating herd. As late as 1874 a train upon the Union Pacific Railroad was held up for nine hours while a herd crossed the tracks, and this was after the war of extermination had gone on for several years, and the herds had be- come partially depleted. For twelve years, beginning in 1871, when the Union Pacific Railroad cut the herd in sunder and sounded its death-knell, the war went on. Millions of hides were obtained each year, while as many more rotted on the plains without being taken from their wearers. No such colossal tragedy in the animal kingdom was ever known upon a single continent. The bleaching bones of the bison were as common a sight upon the great plains as are the stones upon our rock-strewn New England acres. In parts of the West it has The King of the Plains 17 been an industry to collect these bones for the lime that they contain. A single city, which was headquarters for the shipment of these white reminders of the great herd, sent out in a single year the bones of thirty- nine million bison. Is it any wonder that to-day there is actually not one bison where there were a million in 1860 ? From being the greatest herd of wild animals that the world prob- ably ever saw, the bison have diminished to a few hundred semi-domesticated buffalo, dwarfed in stature in many cases and piti- ful in their numerical weakness. Even in the Yellowstone Park, where the government has made every effort to pro- tect them, the pot hunter and the lawless despoiier have pursued the poor bison. In 1890 there were four hundred scattered about the large confines of the park, and now, in spite of the efforts of the govern- ment, there are barely a hundred. 1 8 Introductory To place the entire number of buffalo upon this continent to-day, counting those in public parks, government reservations, those in private domains, and a few who still range wild in the region of the Peace River, at five hundred head would probably be putting the figure too high. 1 This is the sorry story of the American bison, and when we consider that this slaughter was most of it accomplished in twelve years, from 1871 to 1883, we can form some idea of the tremendous tragedy, the like of which has never been seen before or since. First among the causes that led to the extermination of the mighty host we will have to place the coming of the railroad to the great plains. When those two racing gangs of men, one carrying the glittering rails east, and the other west, met upon 1 This statement refers to conditions in 1908. Now there are about two thousand bison on the North American continent. The King of the Plains 19 the vast American desert, the event sounded the knell of the bison. The mighty herd that had hitherto surged northward and southward, with the change of season, was then cut asunder, and was never again united. Occasionally trains were held up on the Union Pacific for half a day while a herd of comparatively few numbers crossed the tracks, but these were small bands, when compared with the whole mighty phalanx, and their migrations were merely tem- porary. Before the coming of the railroad there had been no object in killing large numbers of buffalo. A man could pack out only half a dozen, or at most a dozen skins upon a pony, and as the price was only a dollar a skin, it did not pay ; but when the rail- road solved the transportation difficulties y and the companies still paid a dollar per robe, it was different. A lazy man who 20 Introductory did not care to do hard work could shoot from forty to seventy-five buffalo per day. He could procure skinners who would work very cheaply, and the railroad did the rest. Shortly after the coming of the Union Pacific to the great plains, the south- ern herd was split by another railroad, and all its favorite feeding-grounds thrown open to the hunters. Then the slaughter began. Buffalo robes were seen piled up at all the stations along the road, like cord-wood, and they were shipped east by carloads. Buffalo bones became as common upon the plains as the bison themselves had been before. It took only about three years for the hordes of hunters and the railroads to slaughter the southern herds. But a few survivors could be found upon the outly- ing deserts of Texas in the late seventies. In connection with the slaughter of the southern herd, a very remarkable incident in specialization was noted, which illus- The King of the Plains 21 trates how rapidly nature can work when she is obliged to. Old hunters in Texas re- ported in about 1875 that a new species of buffalo had appeared in the state. They were taller and longer legged, and did not ever become fat like the old species. Some of the hunters said that this new buffalo had come up from Mexico, but the truth was at last discovered. This was merely a new form of the same harassed old spe- cies, adapting itself to new conditions. The bison was now so continually upon the run that he did not have time to get fat, while this tended also to develop the length of his legs, and his speed. Thus in fifteen or twenty years, under this high pressure, nature created what old hunters had deemed a new species of buffalo. The northern herd which inhabited more difficult country to hunt held its own better, and was not wholly slaughtered until about 1883. Here also rapid specialization was 22 Introductory noted, for the remnants of this herd took to the mountains and became almost as expert mountain climbers as the bighorn sheep. So marked was this characteristic of these bison after a few years that they were also set off in a class by themselves, being called the Mountain Bison. The mountain-climbing accomplishments of these harassed buffalo were almost be- yond belief. To see a buffalo bull who would weigh nearly two thousand pounds going up an almost perpendicular cliff like a Rocky Mountain sheep was a not uncom- mon sight. The few now living in the Yellowstone Park inhabit the mountains almost entirely and so are rarely seen by travelers, or even by hunters. In the destruction of the northern herd the steamboats plying up and down the Missouri River played an important part. Here again upon the docks at the different towns along the river bank, robes were piled The King of the Plains 23 high, just as they had been upon the station platforms along the southern railroads. From point to point the poor bison were driven, taking refuge in one fastness after another, only to be hunted out at last and pushed farther on into the wilderness, finally to disappear entirely from the conti- nent where once they had been as the grains of sand upon the seashore. One of the last slaughters was perpetrated by the government itself. After General Ouster's wholesale defeat in the battle of the Little Big-horn, the government decided that the only way to subdue the Indian was to destroy his means of subsistence. Accordingly, the bison were followed by the troopers into their last strongholds and while wallowing belly-deep in the snow, were shot down by the thousands. Finally a few scattered bands, fragments of the great herds, crossed the borders of the United States into what is now the 24 Introductory Canadian Northwest, but even here the set- tlers took toll of them as they went, so that to-day buffalo bones are almost as much a landmark on the prairies of Saskatchewan as in Montana. Farther and farther north the poor fugitives fled, putting on longer, thicker coats as they went, to meet the rigor of the northern climate, until to-day per- haps a hundred bison, known as the Wood Buffalo, are to be found in the Peace River district of Athabasca, the humiliated Lord of the Plains taking refuge in the lonely land of the Muskeg. To the Indian the buffalo was not only the staff of life, being his most easily ob- tainable meat for the entire year, but also out of his massive hulk came nearly all of the red man's utensils, his weapons, his garments and his shelter. So was it any wonder that the Pawnees said that " through the bison and the corn we worship the father," or that in some way the buffalo en- The King of the Plains 25 tered into the religious ceremonies of nearly all the plain Indians? The members of the deer family were whimsical, often changing their feeding-grounds, but the bison could always be found upon the great plains. In the early primitive days the Indian stalked the bison on foot, but later when he became possessed of firearms and ponies, he resorted to the more exciting sport of hunting on horseback. So skilful was the red man with his bow, that he has been known to send an arrow through two buffaloes, who were running side by side. But when there was a large tribe of several hundred lodges to feed, the piskun was resorted to. This manner of killing buffalo is described later in the story. Piles of buffalo bones upon the plains are frequently found even to-day, marking the site of some old piskun. But the red man rarely killed more buf- 26 Introductory falo than he could use, and you will readily believe this when I enumerate the things for which these wild plains cattle were used. The robe was the Indian's winter blanket, and the skin freed from hair his summer covering or sheet. The dressed hide was made into all kinds of clothing. Dressed cow skins covered the lodges which formed a lighter and warmer shelter than the white man has ever been able to invent. Braided strips of rawhide made them ropes and lines, smaller cords were also made from the braided hair. Cannon-bones and ribs were used to make implements to dress hides. Shoulder-blades lashed to sticks made axes and hoes. The ribs furnished runners for small sleds. The green hide was often used as a kettle in which to boil meat. If they stretched it over boughs, it made a small boat for cross- ing rivers. The tough hide from the bull's The King of the Plains 27 neck stretched over a frame made a shield which would turn arrows or a lance thrust. From the hoofs, glue was made just as the white man manufactures it, and the Indian used it to fasten the heads and feathers upon his arrows. Hair was used to stuff cushions and later on, when the Indians became more civi- lized, saddles. The long black beard under the bull's chin furnished strands of hair to ornament shields and quivers. Horns were fashioned into spoons and ladles and drinking-cups, and also orna- mented their war-bonnets. The lining of the paunch was fashioned into a water bucket. The skin of the hind leg cut off at the hock and again at the pastern was used for a moccasin or rude boot. Fly-brushes, gun-covers, saddle-cloths, bow cases, quivers and knife-sheaths, and scores of other useful things were all furnished by the bison, none of whose huge hulk went 28 Introductory to waste in the hands of the ingenious In- dian. Gone are the old days and ways. The bison has entirely disappeared from the plains, and the Indian is confined to his reservations. The vast herds that swarmed the plains whose numbers were like the stars are now almost entirely extinct. Cattle have taken their places in the Bad Lands which were their last grazing- grounds, an extensive agriculture has cov- ered the great plains with wheat and corn, and this is probably for the best. The bison was the red man's beef; when he disappeared and the white man came, there was no longer the urgent need for his existence. Cattle were better suited to the needs of the whites, and both herds could not graze upon the same pasture-lands. But to all those who love nature in her wild, primitive state, who love the barbarity and the grandeur of untamed life, there The King of the Plains 29 will ever be a fascination in thinking of the thundering herd that shook the plains like an earthquake in its passing, now gone forever. To such there will always come wistful thoughts of the old days when the King of the Plains reigned over the greatest kingdom ever vouchsafed to a wild beast. CHAPTER I CROSSING THE GREAT PLAINS The King of the Thundering Herd CHAPTER I CROSSING THE GREAT PLAINS BENNIE ANDERSON sat on the lee side of the prairie schooner, watching the dancing camp-fire, and listening to the howling of the coyotes. Three months before, this diabolical, many-keyed chorus that came from a dis- tant butte, would have filled him with ter- ror, but now it had no fears for him. He was getting used to the sights and sounds of the frontier, for he was a pioneer, going into the wild, desolate country with the rest of the family in search of a new home. 34 The Kind of the Thundering Herd Three months before he would have said that this babel of sound, rising and falling upon the prairie stillness, was made by at least fifty coyotes. There were voices, high- keyed and low-keyed, mournful and pa- thetic, wavering and quavering, as though these small wolves were holding a wake for a beloved comrade. But Bennie now knew, thanks to his father's teachings, that this night chorus was probably made by a pair of coyotes who were serenading the moon according to their night custom. This watching the bright camp-fire was a favorite pastime of the boy's and was what he had done every night since they had started upon this wonderful journey. The camp-fire was full of pictures that came and went with the dancing flames. Besides, there was companionship in the camp-fire and protection from the many dangers of the desolate prairies that encompassed them. Crossing the Great Plains 35 Four months before the Anderson fam- ily, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, Thomas, a boy of nine years, and the soli- tary watcher by the camp-fire, named Ben- jamin, aged eleven years, had said good-bye to Indiana. Ill luck had always followed the Ander- sons in that state, and Bennie's father had said that perhaps a change of scene would also change their luck. So nearly all their belongings had been packed into the can- vas-covered wagon, two dilapidated mules hitched to it. the old cow tied behind, and with the dog following beneath the wagon or capering about as best suited his fancy, they had left the tumble-down cabin and the Indiana homestead, and had started for the frontier beyond the Mississippi. In the same manner their ancestors had left West- ern New York, and started for the Middle West two generations before. You must not imagine for a moment that 36 The King of the Thundering Herd this was in 1910, for it was not. Had it been the twentieth century, they would have gone upon a train, and there would have been no wild frontier in what is now Nebraska and Dakota. But it was in 1871, that eventful summer when those two racing gangs of men carried the approach- ing sections of the Union Pacific Railroad to a splendid completion, and spiked down the last gleaming rail of a system that spanned a continent. It was a summer when great things were in the air, events far-reaching in their con- sequences to the vast plains, and perhaps the boy of eleven years vaguely felt them as he sat brooding by the camp-fire. Anyhow, it had been a wonderful sum- mer to him, and he was fond of think- ing over all the strange objects that he had seen, as he watched the flames leap high, or the embers of the camp-fire slowly die out. His life hitherto had been so un- Crossing the Great Plains 37 eventful and he had seen so little of the world that even now it seemed more like a strange dream than a stirring reality, and it would not have much astonished Bennie to have suddenly awakened to the fact that he was back in his bed in the loft of the log-cabin in Indiana. It had been a very late, cold spring, with raw winds and drizzling rains, but at last Chinnook had come out of the south and breathed over the prairies and all had been changed as by magic. The birds began singing as though they would split their throats, and through the waiting earth went that instantaneous thrill, seen in a few hours, in springing grass and opening buds, and in the gracious warmth of the sun. The coming of Chin- nook had been agreed upon as the signal for the start, so the following day every- thing had been made ready. Mr. Ander- derson had cracked the whip over the backs 38 The King of the Thundering Herd of the two rusty mules and the strange procession, old Brindle bringing up the rear, had started upon its long trip across what was then, for at least a part of the way, a wild and desolate country. All the exultant sounds of spring were in the air. The hoarse, glad cry of the wood- cock was heard in the bottom-lands, and the more rasping note of the jack-snipe came up from the marshes. Killdeer whistled in the uplands; the cardinal ex- ulted in the sumac ; and many a shy little songster greeted the passers-by from bram- ble or thicket. The swift-moving wedge of wild geese went honking by overhead ; and though the sound was not musical, it was exultant, and stirred the blood like a bugle-call to arms. The long-legged sand-hill crane wheeled in the upper air, and the sun was often fairly darkened with scudding flocks of chatter- ing wood-pigeons. Crossing the Great Plains 39 The ducks too were all winging their way northward to their summer breeding- grounds, and they could be seen at morn- ing and evening feeding in all the bayous and lagoons, and upon the slow running creeks that, fringed with small cotton- woods, wound in and out through the low- lands. There were many kinds of ducks, some of them, like the Harlequin and the wood duck, gay in their brilliant plumage, while others were more sober in grays and browns. But among the social company which gabbled as they fed were goodly mallards, and red-eyes, yellow-eyes and canvass-backs, all fat from their sojourn in the South where there was the very best of living just to be had for the taking. Mr. Anderson was an old hunter, and as there were two rifles in the wagon, not to mention an old shotgun, there was usually plenty of fresh duck or prairie chicken to eat. The rivers swarmed with fish which 40 The King of the Thundering Herd were also added to the menu of the Ander- sons. Bennie was particularly fond of fishing and hunting, and as the smaller of the two rifles was his, he did his share in keeping the larder well filled. Prairie chickens were easily located at this time of the year, as the cocks were much in evidence, standing about upon conspicuous hillocks, swelling out their ruffs and sending their booming love- notes far across the rolling prairies. At such times it was a fairly easy matter to stalk them, if one did not mind crawling a dozen rods or so upon his belly. But the sweetest of all the sounds heard upon the broad, rolling prairies, one that always came with the first rays of the sun in the east, was the tumultuous outpour- ing of the prairie larks, the sweetest of all the western singers. This brown bunch of gladness would mount up into the cloudless Crossing the Great Plains 41 sky until it was no longer visible, pouring out its joyous song as it went. Long after it had been lost sight of, one could still hear the wonderful rhapsody, clear as crystal, and as persistent as the sound of a fountain, pouring down through the clear morning air. Even in Illinois, before they crossed the Mississippi, and came into the domain of the buffalo, evidences of the great herds could be discovered, for there was still oc- casionally to be found the plain outlines of a buffalo-wallow that the plough had skipped, or the slight traces of some old bison trail through parts of the prairie that had been latest claimed by the plough. But in the main all signs of the King of the Plains had disappeared east of the Missis- sippi River. It must not be imagined, however, that the sights and sounds of the prairies were all that claimed the attention of the two Anderson boys on this remarkable trip. 42 The King of the Thundering Herd Their Indiana home had been located in an out-of-the-way portion of one of the most sparsely settled counties of the Hoosier State, so Bennie had seen very little of the outside world. To him the towns and cities that they passed through were all like wonderland. He had never even seen a train until this trip. Illinois was not then a lacework of rail- roads as it is now, and many of the farmers still drew their wheat fifteen or twenty miles to the nearest depot. Corn had not then entirely supplanted wheat, so that the state was not one waving corn-field as it is to-day. But it was the plan of Mr. Anderson to avoid the larger towns and cities, and to keep to the country, where there was more hospitality and kindness for emigrants like themselves. The crossing of the great Mississippi Crossing the Great Plains 43 River upon a splendid bridge was a never- to-be-forgotten event to the boys, and when a section of the bridge was swung round to let a steamboat pass through, their astonish- ment knew no bounds. Finally the towns and cities of the Mis- sissippi valley were gradually left behind and the slow-moving canvas-covered wagon, going at the snail's pace set by old Brindle, got out of civilization into the Bad Lands of Northern Missouri. Here there was an unending variety of scenery, and every day brought some new animal or remarkable feature of the land- scape to Bennie's observing eyes. Among his most cherished possessions was a very good field-glass, which had been the property of an uncle who had used it in the Civil War. This glass proved to be the boy's best ally upon the great plains, where the stretches of smooth land are so vast, and the distances so great, that the naked eye is 44 The King of the Thundering Herd wholly inadequate to the demands made upon it, especially if one wants to see all the wild life upon the plains as Bennie did. Strangest of the features of the landscape were the buttes, queer little hills rising sharply from the plains to an altitude of fifty to one hundred feet. Sometimes, in the drier portions of the plains they were quite barren, but in other places they were rather luxuriant. Many of them showed rock formation, and some were so fantastic as to suggest that they had been made by man. Then there were the small canyons, great cracks from ten to fifty feet wide, running through the plains for miles. Their team was often obliged to follow such a depression for a long time before finding a place where they could cross to the other side. Perhaps there was a creek at the bottom of the canyon, or maybe it was quite dry and dusty. If the ravine was wooded and con- tained water, it was called a coulee. Crossing the Great Plains 45 The watercourses, which usually con- sisted of sluggish creeks, could always be seen a long way off, by small cotton woods that usually fringed them. The water problem was often a very serious one upon the parched, desert-like portions of the prairie, and on two occasions they were obliged to travel for half the night before coming to water. It was always necessary to camp by a creek so that they could have water for both man and beast. Deer and bear were quite plentiful in the Missouri Bad Lands, and the boys were al- ways upon the lookout for game of any sort, partly because they could call the attention of their father to it, and thus secure fresh meat for their larder, and also because they enjoyed the excitement. Their young eyes, especially those of Bennie, soon became very sharp to spy out game. The field- glass, in the use of which he soon became expert, always stood him in good stead 46 The King of the Thundering Herd for seeing things on the vast plains. He soon learned to spy out the antelope as they fed or scurried over the smooth prairies. Of all the members of the deer family, this is the shyest, and the hardest to approach, and try as they would, neither Mr. Anderson nor Bennie could kill an antelope. The animal's stratagem was always to keep the hunter in sight. They did not much care if you saw them, provided they also saw you, but they were pretty sure to keep a half a mile between you and them. So as soon as you approached too near, they were off like the wind, running as only an antelope can. Through the glass Bennie could see them quite plainly and their brindle faces, their large bulging eyes, and their graceful pronged horns gave them a queer look. The antelope is the only member of the deer family with hollow horns, and they shed them in the same manner as the flat horn varieties. Crossing the Great Plains 47 On one occasion Bennie observed some queer maneuvres by about twenty antelope, who were galloping to and fro like wild horses. Suddenly they would all stop and stand stock still, each with his head held in the same position. Then of one accord they were off running side by side, or in file as the case might be, until they were again suddenly halted by their leader. Sometimes they would turn upon a pivot, wheeling like cavalry, to go off like the wind in a new direction. These strange tactics they kept up for nearly an hour, until the schooner was out of sight of them. In many of the slopes of the rolling plains there were towns of prairie dogs, queer little chaps about the size of a half-grown wood- chuck, and looking something like a small chucky. If the team went too near to their town, they would set up a great yelping and barking, each sitting upon his tail near his hole, and at the sound of a gun, all would 48 The King of the Thundering Herd go scurrying in like a flash. It is almost impossible to shoot one and get him. Even when mortally wounded, he will wriggle into his hole. The prairie dog town is constantly en- larged on the outside, and so in time the holes at the heart of the town become de- serted. The boys finally discovered that these deserted holes were occupied by queer little owls, who would stand by their front doors winking and blinking in the blazing sunlight. These empty dog-burrows were also inhabited by rattlesnakes, whose ugly lengths could be plainly seen through the glass, coiled up basking in the sun- light. There were also now many signs of the buffalo : gleaming skulls and huge skele- tons that told their sad story, as well as oc- casionally a real live bison ; but of these I will speak in the following chapter. Of birds there were not so many as there Crossing the Great Plains 49 had been in Indiana. The black, scolding magpie, first cousin to the whiskey jack, was much in evidence, and ducks were frequently seen along the creeks by the cottonwoods. One evening they surprised an old duck and her brood, ten tiny little corks, bob- bing about upon the water. They were as buoyant as bubbles, but the Andersons did not have long to watch them, for the old duck soon led them away into the reeds. Other birds there were whose names the boys did not know. These were pecking away upon the wild plums, or eating weed- seeds, but all seemed quite sociable, and not a bit wild. At first Bennie had been almost terrified at the vast stretches of brown, sear plains, so silent and so lifeless that it seemed as though there was not a living thing upon them. Sometimes the Andersons would 50 The King of the Thundering Herd travel for hours, without seeing a sign of life unless the glass was used, and then they merely noted some brown spots upon the far-away plains. The Spirit of the Plains was a very silent and unapproachable spirit, a being that wandered without sound or form, without color, or any perceptible shape, yet brooding silently over all. You always felt, rather than saw it, a very ap- parent presence, yet always eluding sight and hearing. It deceived your eyes in regard to distance upon the plains, and it caused sound to travel very far. It laid a weird spell upon all things. It was a new experience to the Andersons, but gradually all came to love the spirit of the desert, and to miss it when they passed again into the broken Bad Lands. All these things and many more Bennie saw each night as he gazed into the danc- ing camp-fire, and it was like living each Crossing the Great Plains 51 day over again in the mysterious evening. Somehow he could not blot them out, and they would come in spite of him ; the vast stretches of rolling prairies, the antelope, the coyotes, like those that were now making the night hideous ; the bleaching buffalo bones, the buttes, the canyons, the cottonwoods, the cloudless blue sky, intense and pitiless. All came and went in the dancing firelight. " Benjamin, Benjamin," called the boy's mother, thrusting her head out of a slit in the canvas. " You stop dreaming and come to bed this minute." " Yes, mother," replied the boy, heaving a deep sigh. "I am coming." The dreams in the dancing camp-fire were so much more pleasant than those in the schooner that he hated to leave them. But his mother's word was law, so after putting a little more fuel upon the fire, he climbed into the wagon, where the boys and their 52 The King of the Thundering Herd mother slept, and was soon peacefully snoring, while the coyotes outside still kept up their dismal song to the new moon as it sailed over a distant butte. CHAPTER II THE THUNDERING HERD CHAPTER II THE THUNDERING HERD THE modest Anderson caravan had not journeyed far into the Missouri Bad Lands, at right angles to the old Oregon Trail, which so many adventurers had followed before and have since, before the signs of buffalo became very plentiful, although the boys did not at first recognize them. The first buffalo trail that they discovered greatly astonished the boys and gave them some idea of the immense numbers of bison that must have traveled that way, to wear it so deep in the soil. It was a well-defined path leading from one feeding-ground to another, or perhaps to the salt-lick, or to water. So many hoofs had passed that way that the trail 56 The King of the Thundering Herd was worn two feet deep into the soil, and where the earth was particularly soft, it was three feet deep. Some old buffalo trails are frequently seen in soft places, where the backs of the buffalo would have just shown above the earth as they traveled. Then there were trees, cottonwoods usu- ally, that had been so persistently rubbed against in years gone by that the bark was all worn off, and in some cases the trees were nearly dead from the continual fric- tion. If a boulder could be found which stood three or four feet above the ground, that also made a good rubbing-post, and around such stones the ground would be trodden down until a path was made three feet deep. One writer tells of the great annoyance that the railroads experienced when they first came into the country, through the continual rubbing of the buffalo upon the telegraph poles. Finally a section boss said The Thundering Herd 57 he would put a stop to it ; so he filled sev- eral poles with spikes. Examinations of these particular poles a few days later showed that they had been used much more than before the spikes were driven in, the spike-filled poles making a fine curry- comb for the buffalo. This rubbing process is also common among domestic cattle, es- pecially in the spring, when they are shed- ding their old coats. In this season of the year the buffalo's coat, which is long and thick, often hangs in shreds or matted masses a foot or two in length, and it is to get rid of these encumbrances that the buffalo take to the rubbing-posts. Then there were the buffalo-wallows, places fifty or sixty feet across, where the bison had worn out a sort of basin by roll- ing and wallowing in the mud. Sometimes these wallows were entirely dry, and often they were grassed over, but you could al- ways see the ridge at the edge of the wal- 58 The King of the Thundering Herd low. Fairy rings they are also sometimes called by the frontiersman. But the most striking of all the buffalo signs were the gleaming skulls and the pa- thetic skeletons which the sun and the rains had polished white as ivory, and which could be seen for a long distance on the prairies. These grim reminders of the great herd could often be seen for a mile through the glass and even half that dis- tance with the naked eye, looking like a faint white glimmer. One night when it was cold and chilly and the Andersons had had to camp in a very forlorn desert portion of the prairies, far from wood and unfortunately also from water, Mr. Anderson came into camp bring- ing an armful of buffalo chips. These were hard, dry cakes of buffalo dung, that had long baked in the sun. The boys were very much astonished, and wondered what he intended to do with them, but they were The Thundering Herd 59 soon enlightened. Their father arranged the chips just as you would faggots for a camp-fire, and soon had a bright blaze glow- ing. In addition to giving a very fair blaze, they also emitted a slight odor, which kept away the mosquitoes. That night the An- dersons not only cooked their supper by the fire from the chips, but this fuel kept them warm and made the immediate circle of their camp-fire bright and cheerful until they turned in. It is noticeable all through nature that fire and light, which come from combus- tion, are symbolic of comfort and cheer. The sun, our source of light and heat, is the very embodiment of good cheer. How dark and dismal the old world becomes when he hides his face. What an exultant thrill runs through the fields and forest when he darts his first rosy shafts of light over the eastern hills, at once glorifying the earth. The moon and the stars are our 60 The King of the Thundering Herd comfort by night, and how depressing is a moonless, starless night. By the light of the stars and the moon we get some idea of the immensity of the universe, which even the surpassing brightness of the sun does not reveal. Even when we come down to the warmth and cheer of an open fireplace, or better still a camp-fire, we see how necessary to man's comfort are warmth and light. The first glimpse that the Andersons had of a real live buffalo was just at sunset. Sunset and twilight come rather suddenly upon the plains, just as they do upon the ocean. The sober-going prairie schooner was plodding along, making the last mile or two before they would camp for the night, when Bennie, who was always upon the lookout for wild life, descried a massive dark form clearly outlined against the sun- set sky. The field-glass was at once brought into play and the distant object proved to be a The Thundering Herd (u gigantic buffalo bull. He was standing chewing his cud, in a ruminating manner, and looking off across the rolling prairies to the distant sunset, or so it seemed to the watchers with the glass. Although he was perhaps a quarter of a mile away, yet the glass brought him quite near, so that they could study him and get a good idea of just how the King of the Plains looked. His head and shoulders were very massive, and almost out of pro- portion to his hind-quarters, but not enough so to look badly. A long black beard, per- haps a foot in length, hung down beneath his chops, while his massive head was gen- erously ornamented with long dark curly hair that nearly hid his large, ox-like eyes. His horns were short and sharp, and slightly curved upward, suggesting what execution he could do if he were suddenly to throw up his great head, and catch his victim upon the horns. 62 The King of the Thundering Herd The hump upon his shoulders seemed to be a natural sequence from his massive head and thick neck, which would need just such fore-quarters to support them. His hind-quarters were rather slight, com- pared with his fore-quarters, and were adorned with a short, sparsely-haired tail, which usually stuck straight up when the bison galloped over the plains at his best pace. The entire robe of the King, aside from the black markings, was a deep rich brown, which certain times of the year has a fine gloss. That the coat was thick and warm, suitable to shield its wearer from the most extreme cold, could also be plainly seen through the glass. So well is the buffalo protected by his splendid coat, that a calf that was dropped in Northern Dakota in February, with the thermometer forty below zero, did not seem to mind the cold reception that he had at The Thundering Herd 63 the hands of nature upon his appearance in the world. It was a never-to-be-forgotten picture, of the old King standing upon the crest of a distant swell, chewing his cud, while the westering sun surrounded him with a halo and painted the sky above him in most gorgeous colors. The boys gazed at him with wondering eyes until the after-glow faded, and the dark figure on the crest of the swell was merged in the gathering gloom. The next glimpse of the bison was like- wise just at dusk. They had turned out of their course, going nearly five miles to the south for wood and water. These they found upon the banks of a broad brawling river, which proved to be none other than the Missouri. At this point it was lined by high bluffs, partially wooded. On the northern bank, from which the Andersons approached, the slope was gradual as the country fell away to the river for half a 64 The King of the Thundering Herd mile, but on the bank across, which was the Kansas side, it was much more precipi- tate, there probably being one hundred feet fall to three hundred feet slope, which made it very steep. Here the banks were not wooded, but composed of sand and small cobblestones, the work of the water for countless ages, with here and there a large boulder. Just as the wagon reached the northern bank, a buffalo bull came out upon the top of the bluff at the other side of the river, and, after looking down the steep descent for a few seconds, to the astonishment of the watching emigrants on the other side, began slowly to descend. The bank was so steep that it almost seemed as though he would be pitched headlong, but he dug in his hoofs, and went sliding and slipping for fifteen or twenty feet, carrying down a small ava- lanche of sand and cobblestones with him. The Thundering Herd 65 At the first convenient projection he stopped to rest, and to pick out the best going for the next twenty feet. Then he would slowly start, slipping and sliding again. At last by dint of many stops, he reached a point within fifty feet of the bottom, but the rest of the way was very steep, and here he paused, uncertain what to do next. Finally he concluded that the only thing to do was to go on, so with a grand slip and a slide that carried down tons of earth with him, he reached the bottom in a cloud of dust. Having attained his goal at so much labor, he seemed determined to get his money's worth, so wallowed about in the shallow water near the shore, drinking and blowing the water from his nose for half an hour. Finally he began slowly to ascend just as he had come down. As in the descent, the fifty feet nearest the river was the most difficult, and this 66 The King of the Thundering Herd he made with a great rush, which seemed fairly to wind him as he stood panting and blowing at the first stopping-place for five minutes. At last, however, he seemed to get his wind, for he again began slowly to ascend and finally reached the top. Here he turned for a last look over the landscape where twilight was falling fast upon the prairie beyond. Finally he faced about and trotted leis- urely away into the gathering gloom, and the boys, who had stopped all proceedings in the course of camp-making to watch him, hurried away for fuel and water. A most grewsome reminder of the great herd was discovered one day at the bottom of a small canyon, perhaps forty feet across and thirty deep, just such crevasses in the face of mother earth as are often met with in the more arid portions of the great plains. At the bottom of this canyon they dis- covered bleaching in the hot sun the skull- The Thundering Herd 67 bones and partial skeletons of perhaps twenty buffalo. These grim reminders of the tragedy that had occurred at some not distant date at the bottom of the gulch were lying rather close together, just as the struggling mass must have fallen. There were no signs of a piskun, although that may have been the cause of their death, or perhaps it was a wild stampede upon a dark night. Maybe the herd had been cowering in the darkness, standing in a rather compact bunch while a thunder- storm was in progress. Presently a peal of thunder more terrible than its predecessors, or a brighter flash of lightning, may have turned loose that madness known as the stampede in their midst. Or it may have been brought about by some quite ridicu- lous cause. Perhaps it was broad daylight, and the passing of a cloud shadow, or some unusual noise may have brought on the fatal tragedy. 68 The King of the Thundering Herd Anyhow, it happened as the heap of bleaching bones at the bottom of the canyon testified, and away the herd went, galloping madly, heedless of all dangers, just as liable to plunge into quagmires, or over precipices as anything else. It was not until late September or early October that the Andersons saw the buffalo in any numbers. Hitherto, it had been an occasional lonely bison feeding in some coulee, or a solitary bull looking off across the country from the crest of a swell, but they now began to see them in larger num- bers. The jolting wagon by this time had pounded its weary way over the plains and through the Bad Lands and the desert-like portions of the prairies, where there was nothing but sage-brush and sprawling cac- tus, until they had reached a point near the northwest corner of Missouri, what The Thundering Herd 69 would now be considered within an easy distance of Omaha and Topeka. It was not an unfrequent sight to see upon the slope of a distant swell a dozen buffalo peacefully grazing, like domestic cattle. They usually made off at a slow trot whenever the wagon got within a few hundred yards of them. Not knowing much of the habits or disposition of the bison, Mr. Anderson said that they would not attempt to kill any at present even for meat, as deer and other game were plenti- ful. So they journeyed along without molest- ing the bison that they saw, satisfied to let them alone, if they were in turn let alone. This amicable arrangement might have held good until they reached their journey's end, in the heart of Kansas, had not some- thing happened that made the killing of a few bison the price of safety to the little party. This was an event that no one of 70 The King of the Thundering Herd the emigrants ever forgot as long as he lived, and an incident that filled one night as full of excitement and peril as it could well hold. They had been traveling for two days over a nearly unbroken stretch of slightly undulating prairie. The summer sun had baked the earth till it was hard and lifeless. Every tuft of grass was burned to a crisp. Even the sage-brush that grew in all the sandy spots seemed parched by the shim- mering heat. The sky was a bright intense blue, and each night the sunset was red and the afterglow partially obscured by a cloud of dust. The watercourses and the cottonwoods were half a day's journey apart, and an intolerable thirst was over all the land- scape. The second day of this trying desert-like prairie stretch of their journey was just drawing to a close, when they noted upon The Thundering Herd 71 the northern horizon what at first seemed to be a cloud of smoke. At the thought of a prairie fire upon such a parched area as these plains, a horrible fear seized upon the little party, and Mr. Anderson hurried to the top of the nearest swell to learn if their worst fears were true. On mounting the eminence, he discovered that the cloud extended from the east to the west as far as the eye could reach. It certainly was not smoke, but each minute it grew in density and volume, like a menace, something dark and foreboding that would engulf them. Presently as he watched, he thought he heard a low rumbling, like the first indis- tinct sounds of thunder, and putting his ear to the ground in Indian fashion, he could hear the rumbling quite plainly. It was like the approach of a mighty earth- quake, only it traveled much slower; like the rumbling of the surf; like the J2 The King of the Thundering Herd voice of the sea, or the hurricane, heard at a distance. Again the anxious man scanned the dark, ominous-looking cloud, that now belted half the horizon, and this time he thought that he discerned dark particles like tiny dancing motes in the cloud. Then as he gazed, the specks grew larger, like gnats or small flies, close to where the horizon line should have been. Here and there were clouds of the dark specks, like swarms of busy insects. But what a myriad there was. In some places they fairly darkened the cloud. Then in a flash the truth dawned upon the incredulous man leaving him gasping with astonishment, and quaking with fear. All these tiny specks upon the horizon line were buffalo. A mighty host stretching from east to west as far as the eye could reach, and to the north God only knew how far. Like an avalanche that rushes The Thundering Herd 73 upon its way, unmindful of man and human life; pitiless as fate, and as remorseless as all the primeval forces of nature, the Thundering Herd was rolling down upon them. For a few seconds he gazed, fascinated and held to the spot by his very fear, and the wonder of it all. Darker and darker grew the cloud. Plainer and plainer the headlong rush of the countless host was seen, while the rumbling of their ten thousand hoofs, which at first had been like distant thunder, now swelled to the volume of a rapidly approaching hurricane. The solid earth was felt to vibrate and rock, to tremble and quake. Mr. Anderson waited to see no more, but fled back to his family whose escape from this sea of hoofs now seemed to him almost hopeless. The boys hurried to meet him, their faces pale with fright, for even the rest of the 74 The King of the Thundering Herd family now realized that some great danger was swooping down upon them. Mr. Anderson made his plan of escape as he ran. To think of fleeing was out of the question. Their slow-moving schooner would be overtaken in almost no time. There was no canyon, no coulee in which to take refuge ; no butte to which they might flee ; not even a tree or a rock behind which they might crouch, and thus be partly shielded. Out in the open the danger must be met, with nothing but the shelter of the wagon to keep off the grinding hoofs, and only the muzzles of their three guns to stand between them and annihilation when the crash came. Hastily they turned the wagon about, with its hind end toward the herd. The mules were unhitched from the pole and each hitched to the front wheel. A rope was also passed through the side strap of the harness of each mule, and he was fast- The Thundering Herd 75 ened to the hind wheel of the wagon, so that he could not swing about and be across the tide when this sea of buffalo should strike them. This kept the mules with their heels toward the herd, thus securing the addi- tional aid of a mule's heels on guard at each side of the wagon. Old Brindle was secured to the pole of the wagon, where the mules had been. The wheels were blocked. What furniture the wagon contained was piled up behind to help make a barricade. When all had been made as snug as possible, the family crawled under the wagon and awaited results. The muzzles of the two rifles were held in readiness for an emergency at either side of the wagon, while Mrs. Anderson had the shotgun in readiness to reinforce the garrison should they need more loaded weapons at a moment's notice. Nearer and nearer came the Thundering Herd, while the vibrations in the solid earth grew with each passing second. The clouds 7 6 The King of the Thundering Herd of dust shut out the light of the setting sun, and made a dark pall over all the landscape, which was like the descending of the mantle of death. Bennie gritted his teeth together and tried hard not to let the muzzle of his rifle shake as he pointed it out between the spokes of the hind wheel on his side of the wagon. On come the terrible battalions of gallop- ing hoofs, the massive heads and black beards of mighty bulls glowering through the clouds of dust. Each second the pound- ing of their hoofs swelled in volume, and each second the vibrations of the solid earth became more pronounced. Like the smoke of a great conflagration, the dust- clouds settled over the prairies until the crouching, trembling human beings, so im- potent in this vast mad rush of wild beasts, could see the frontlets of the bulls but a few rods away. I i THE MAD, GALLOPING, SURLY HERD WAS ALL ABOUT THEM The Thundering Herd 77 But almost before they had time to real- ize it, the mad, galloping, pushing, steam- ing, snorting herd was all about them, pounding by so close that the coats of the nearest bulls brushed the sides of the mules. At first they seemed to turn out a bit for the wagon, but presently a bunch of buffalo, more compact than the rest of the herd, was seen bearing down upon them as though they were charging the schooner, although they probably did not even notice it. " Ready with your rifle, Bennie," called Mr. Anderson, and father and son both cocked their guns. When the bunch was almost upon them, both fired, and a mighty bull fell kicking against the back of the wagon, but his kicks were not of long du- ration, for at this short range the rifles did fearful execution. There was no respite, however, for close behind the fallen bull came more, and Mr. 78 The King of the Thundering Herd Anderson reached for the shotgun, and piled another bull upon the first, although he had to finish him with a Colt's revolver, which was destined to stand them in much better stead than the guns. It was with difficulty that the muzzle- loading rifles could be loaded while lying down in the cramped position under the wagon, but the Colt's revolver, which was a forty-four and just as effective at this short range as a rifle, could be readily re- loaded, and Mrs. Anderson kept its five chambers full. Old Abe, the mule upon the right side of the wagon, now took his turn in the fray, for a bull galloped too close to him, raking Abe's flank with his sharp horn. The mule let both heels fly, striking another bull fairly in the forehead, and felling him to the ground. But a buffalo's skull is as thick as a board, and the bull jumped up and galloped on with his fellows. The Thundering Herd 79 For a few minutes the two dead bulls at the rear of the wagon seemed to act as a buffer and the others parted just enough to graze the wagon. The mules, who brayed and kicked whenever the buffalo came too close, also helped, but presently another bunch was seen bearing down upon them. They were close together and crowding, and did not seem likely to give way for the crouching fugitives under the wagon. Although Bennie and his father both fired, and Mr. Anderson followed up the rifle shots with both barrels from the shot- gun, and three shots from the Colt's, yet they struck the wagon with a terrific shock. There was frantic kicking and frenzied braying from both Abe and Ulysses and a violent kicking and pounding in the wagon that seemed to be immediately over their heads. It was plain that instantaneous action of some kind was necessary if their domicile 8o The King of the Thundering Herd was to be saved, for one of the crowding bulls had been carried immediately into the wagon. He had become entangled in the top, and was pawing and kicking to free himself. His great head just protruded over the seat. Mr. Anderson reached up quickly with the Colt's, and put an end to his kicking with two well directed shots. There were now four dead bulls piled up behind the wagon and one inside of it, and soon the blood from their last victim came trickling through upon the helpless family. It was a grewsome position, but they could not escape it and all were so glad that the blood was not their own, that they did not mind. " We are pretty well barricaded now, Bennie," shouted Mr. Anderson, just mak- ing himself heard above the thunder of gal- loping hoofs. " I think we are safe. They cannot get at us over all that beef and they The Thundering Herd cannot get through the side, so I do not see but we are secure." " Thank God," exclaimed Mrs. Anderson fervently, " but I shan't feel safe until the last buffalo has passed." She had barely ceased speaking when old Abe uttered a piercing bray, in which was both terror and pain. He accompanied the outcry with a vicious kick, but almost im- mediately sank to the earth, kicking and paw- ing. It was then seen that a bull had ripped open the mule's left side, partially disem- boweling him, a mortal wound. His frantic kicking so endangered the cowering fugitives under the wagon that Mr. Ander- son was obliged to shoot him. His loss was irreparable, and the boys whimpered softly to themselves as they saw their old friend stretched out dead beside the wagon. Old Brindle at this point became unman- ageable, breaking her rope, so that the seething black mass swallowed her. " There 82 The King of the Thundering Herd goes old Brindle too," sobbed Tommy. " I guess we will all starve now." Poor Shep, who had been securely tied at the forward end of the wagon, cowered and whimpered as though he too thought the judgment day had come, and it was his and Tommy's lot to comfort each other, the dog licking the boy's hands, and he in turn patting the dog's head. The loss of old Brindle and Abe proved to be the turning-point in the misfortunes of the Andersons, for the herd now parted at the barricade made by the dead buffalo, the mule, and the wagon, so that although every few minutes it seemed as though they would be engulfed, yet the danger veered to one side and passed by. Half an hour and then an hour went by and still there was no diminution of the herd. The second hour and the third passed and still they came, crowding and pushing, blowing and snorting, steaming and reeking. The Thundering Herd 83 " Won't they ever go by, father ? " asked Bennie. " I should think there were a million of them." " It is the most wonderful thing that I ever saw," replied Mr. Anderson. " I have often heard old hunters tell about the count- less herds of buffalo, but I had always sup- posed that they were lying. In the future I will believe anything about their numbers." At last seeing that they were in no im- mediate danger, Mr. Anderson told the boys to go to sleep if they could and he would watch. If there was any need of their help, he would call them. Accordingly, all the firearms were loaded and placed by Mr. Anderson and the boys, and Shep curled up near the for- ward wheels to rest. They were terribly tired, for the excitement and the hard work had told upon their young nerves and muscles. The last thing Bennie remembered was 84 The King of the Thundering Herd the thunder of the myriad hoofs, and the rocking and trembling of the earth under him. But even these sounds soon ceased for him, and he and his brother slept. When he again opened his eyes, the sun was shining brightly and the clouds of dust that had obscured the moon when he fell asleep had been partly dissipated. Here and there he could see an occasional buffalo galloping southward, but the mighty herd, whose numbers had seemed like the stars, was gone. " It's the tail end of the procession, boy," called Bennie's father. " The last install- ment went by about fifteen minutes ago. I did not dream that bison could be found in such numbers in Western Missouri at the present time. I had supposed the few scat- tering head that we saw were all that were left in the state." This conclusion of Mr. Anderson's was quite right, but this autumn, for some un- The Thundering Herd 85 accountable reason, the great herd had come down for a part of the way on the Missouri River on its southern migration following the old trail of two decades before, instead of crossing Western Ne- braska and Kansas. It had been a costly experiment, however, for all the way hunt- ers had swarmed upon their flanks and they had lost thousands of head, but their number was legion, so what did it matter? 1 1 At the time of which I am writing the bison had disap- peared in all parts of Missouri, with the exception of the Bad Lands, where they were still found in small bands. So persist- ently did they stick to this wild country that Colonel Roosevelt tells of shooting individual buffalo in Missouri as late as 1885. CHAPTER III LITTLE BIGHEAD CHAPTER III LITTLE BIGHEAD SLOWLY and thankfully the Andersons crawled out from under the wagon and stretched themselves and rubbed their joints. Their muscles had become so cramped and stiff that it was some time before the elder members of the party could stand, but the boys seemed to ex- perience very little ill effect from the night's sleep on the ground under the wagon. The most delighted member of the party was Shep, who danced about, barking and frolicking as soon as he was untied. But what a scene it was that met their eyes ! The ground had seemed dry and parched enough before, but it had shown still a little semblance of verdure. Now go The King of the Thundering Herd all that had been ground to dust by the passing herd. Not only had all vegetation been destroyed, but the solid earth, which had seemed so hard from the baking of the sun, was dented and harrowed by the myriad hoofs. Steaming dung was every- where, and the reek of cattle, hot and steamy, filled the air. This taint was so strong that it still seemed as though they must be all about, and the boys kept look- ing apprehensively to the north, for the air was still filled with the presence of the herd. Mr. Anderson at once untied old Ulysses, who evidenced his delight by kicking up and braying after the most approved manner of mules. Grass there was none to be had, so after nosing about for a while the mule philosophically went to eating a young cottonwood. The mule is the most hardy of the equestrian family, and he will thrive where a horse will die. Sawdust or almost anything else seems to be grist for his mill. Little Bighead 91 "We must hurry up and get breakfast and then go in search of old Brindle," said Mr. Anderson. "It seems like rather a hopeless task on these great plains, but we have got to find her." So while the boys went to a distant dead cottonwood for fuel, Mr. Anderson cut the tongues from the four dead animals, which were quite enough for their breakfast. His method of severing the tongue was unique, something that he had learned of an old frontiersman. With his hunting- knife he cut the tongue off under the jaw at its roots, and then drew it out through the side of the mouth, without the tedious process of prying open the dead animal's jaws, which might have been somewhat of an undertaking. Breakfast put heart into the emigrants and made life look better worth living. Mr. Anderson's first move after the meal was to draw the wagon away from the three 92 The King of the Thundering Herd dead buffalo, and then to snake out the one inside, by the aid of Ulysses. This was quite a task and he nearly tipped the wagon over in doing it, but it was finally accomplished. They then left Mrs. Anderson and her youngest eon to do what they could to re- pair the damage in camp, while Mr. Ander- son and Bennie went in search of old Brindle. It seemed almost a hopeless task upon the hoof-beaten plain to find her, even if she had not been swept along with the herd. But Mr. Anderson counted upon Shep. He had gone for the cow in the Indiana pasture ever since he was a curly frisking pup, and if any nose could follow her trail it was his. Besides he was a famous cattle dog, having participated many times, back in the Hoosier State, in rounding up strayed or stolen cattle. Not only was old Brindle a necessity to Little Bighead 93 the family as a producer of milk, but she was now to be their other mule, for it was only by hitching her beside Ulysses that they could continue their journey. It was now merely a question of traveling until they could find a fertile coulee, or a hundred acres of bottom-land, which should be sheltered, and near to wood and water, when they would stop and get to work making things snug for the winter. To the surprise of every one, Shep took the track of old Brindle after being told to fetch the cow, and started off across the desolate plains, Mr. Anderson and Bennie following at his heels. He was obliged to go rather slowly, however, and keep his nose close to the ground. It seemed almost like a miracle that he could follow it at all among the myriad hoof prints. The trail led, as they had expected, to the southward, the old cow evidently being swept along with the herd. All the time 94 The King of the Thundering Herd the man and boy kept a sharp lookout for a creek, as they were nearly famished, the contents of one water-jug having lasted the whole family all through that perilous night. On, on they went across the endless plains, the scorching sun beating down mercilessly. At about noon they were obliged to rest in a small canyon, which was the only shade that they had met with since leaving camp. Even here there was little verdure, and almost no trees, and worst of all no water. At about three o'clock in the afternoon they again took up their tedious quest. Shep was now often rather uncertain of the trail, and was occasionally obliged to take fifteen minutes to unravel it from that of the rest of the herd. Finally at about four o'clock the broad trail struck off to the west, and all felt in- stinctively that this change would better Little Bighead 95 their fortunes. Nor was this feeling a false hope, for soon cotton woods and green bluffs loomed up ahead, and in another hour they were again upon the banks of the broad Missouri, which they had not seen for two weeks. With a shout of delight, man, boy, and dog plunged into the shallow water, and were soon refreshed, drinking and drinking until it seemed as though they would burst. " I must start back at once for camp, to carry water to mother and Torn," said Mr. Anderson. " You can continue the search for old Brindle, and we will meet here at this particular spot upon the river bank. That is, if we can get the wagon here. If I cannot, I will come forward on foot, so that you can look for me here to-morrow night without fail." At the thought of being left alone upon the wide desolate plains, with no other company than Shep, Bennie's heart failed 96 The King of the Thundering Herd him. He was made of good stuff, however, and did not let his father see that he was afraid. The need of his mother and brother, who had gone all day with little water, must be terrible. For their sakes he must be a man. "All right, father," he said, choking down his fears. " To-morrow night we will meet here. I will have old Brindle, and you be here with the wagon and mother and Tom." Father and son clasped hands to cement the bargain, and after filling both canteens, for Bennie was to be left without one, Mr. Anderson started back for camp, going by means of the small compass that he always carried. Besides this he also had a com- pass somewhere inside him. A woodsman's compass, an instinct that almost never fails its owner and is priceless upon the frontier. Besides if it was not cloudy, there was always the bright, intense North Star, Little Bighead 97 just in line with the bowl of the Big Dip- per, to guide one. In spite of his strong resolutions to be a man, it was with a terrible sense of loneli- ness that Bennie watched his father's form grow smaller and smaller as he hurried back to the waiting ones in camp. As soon as the figure disappeared over the top of a distant rise in the prairies, the boy and the dog set about exploring the immediate country and also looking for a suitable place to spend the night. As the river was broad and quite swift here, Bennie thought there might be a very good chance of finding the cow upon the morrow. The herd had swum the river, and its straggling rear-guard could be plainly seen feeding upon some high pla- teau-like prairie beyond. Bennie felt posi- tive that old Brindle would not swim the river, for she was not used to such long swims as were these wild cattle. 98 The King of the Thundering Herd So the boy and the dog explored the banks for a mile in each direction without seeing any signs of the cow, and then they decided to stop in a small coulee leading down to the river. Here it was cool and sweet and very restful after the long tramp across the plains. Bennie did not share his bison-steak with the dog, so he shot a gopher for Shep, who seemed quite contented with his own supper. Presently the soft mantle of dusk dropped suddenly over the great plains, and one by one the stars appeared. Bennie amused himself counting them until they came so fast that he could no longer keep track of them ; then he went to collect some fagots for the night camp-fire. The plains seemed so vast and lifeless as far as human life was concerned. It would not seem quite so bad when they had the fire going, for a camp-fire is a great dis- Little Bighead 99 penser of cheer in a lonely corner of the world. Its cracking and sputtering is al- most like the voice of a friend. Now the coyote began his mournful night-song, and a loon from far up the river joined in to keep the small wolves company. Some mallards were quacking softly to themselves in the sedges along the bank, and great bayou bullfrogs were sound- ing their deep bass notes. The most sinister sound that came to their ears was the far-away hunting-cry of the great gray wolf, some grizzled old leader calling to his pack as they skirted the rear-guard of the herd of buffalo. Per- haps it was a sick old bull, whom they had cut out of the herd, or maybe it was a heifer and her first calf. In either case it boded no good for the quarry that the gray wolf hunted that night. At the sound every hair upon Shep's back went up and he trembled with excitement ioo The King of the Thundering Herd and fear. But soon they had the camp-fire blazing brightly and Bennie knew that as long as they kept it going, the wolves would not come very close to them. When Shep had finished his gopher, and the boy his buffalo meat, both took a drink from the river, and then they cuddled down by the camp-fire for the night. Bennie pillowed his head upon the soft coat of Shep and held one hand in his collar. The other grasped the stock of his rifle. Thus doubly guarded, the boy fell asleep. The next thing that Bennie remembered was a sensation that something was licking his face. His first confused thought was that it might be a bear. Had a huge bear crept upon him while he slept and was he now in the act of washing his dirty face, preparatory to eating him ? Instinctively his hand tightened upon the grip of the rifle, and he slowly opened his eyes, only to look into the grinning face Little Bighead 101 of Shep faithful Shep, who had watched all night at his side and was now gently lick- ing his face to awaken him. The sun was just mounting over the eastern rim of the prairie, and a score of un- known birds were twittering and scolding in the small cottonwoods by the river. The ducks were quacking and gabbling as they fed in the sedges along shore. The whole vast stretch of mother earth was waking into the fulness of another day. Bennie sat up and rubbed his eyes and tried to remember where he was. Then it all came over him in a flash. He and Shep were alone by the great river and his father and mother and Tommy were somewhere to the north. He was to look up old Brindle and bring her to the river bank, and his father was to bring the schooner and the rest of the family to their place of rendezvous. Bennie made a hasty breakfast on some 1O2 The King of the Thundering Herd of the buffalo meat which still remained, and shot another gopher for Shep. Finally both took a drink in the Missouri, and then boy and dog started off up the river to look for the missing cow. They had not gone two miles when they came to a broad, deep coulee, filled with small trees, and through it flowed a bright little stream to meet the Missouri. Although it was hot and dry out on the prairie, at the bottom of the coulee it was cool and sweet. It seemed such a restful spot that Bennie and Shep lay down in the grateful shade to rest for a little before pursuing their quest further. They had been lying still for perhaps fifteen minutes when Shep reared upon his haunches and began sniffing the air excit- edly. His young master told him to lie down and keep quiet, but he paid no atten- tion to the command. "What's the matter with you, Shep?" Little Bighead 103 asked the boy finally, seeing the dog's grow- ing excitement. For answer Shep bolted through the cover, uttering quick, excited barks at every jump. Thinking that he had discovered some game which was close at hand, Bennie rushed after him, rifle in readiness to shoot at a moment's notice. After going about ten rods, Shep's barking suddenly ceased and his young master came abruptly upon him in a little open spot, where he stood exultantly wagging his tail and grinning at a large reddish object which was partly hidden under a small spreading cottonwood. Was it a buffalo ? Bennie raised the rifle, but it suddenly fell in his hands. It was old Brindle, standing under the tree swish- ing flies and chewing her cud. But this surprise was barely over when they were treated to another, for the old cow, who had usually been upon the best of terms with Shep, charged full upon the 104 The & n 9 f th> e Thundering Herd faithful dog, causing him to turn tail and skulk away through the coulee. But every few rods Shep would turn about and wag his tail, as much as to say, " Now what does this mean, Brindle ? You know me. I am Shep, your old friend." Bennie was still standing gazing after them and wondering what made the cow act so strangely, when the dog doubled back and came under the tree where the cow had been standing. He was too good a cattle dog not to understand something of the cow's actions. At this move upon Shep's part Brindle became more enraged than ever, charging him furiously. Shep repeated his tactics again, leading the cow a few rods away and then doubled sharply coming back under the tree again. This time he seemed to find what he was looking for, and he told the news to his master with excited barks, now refusing to be driven away from the tree, but skulk- Little Bighead 105 ing in and out and just eluding the cow's horns. At last it dawned upon Bennie that there was something under the tree which was the cause of this strange game of hide and seek between the dog and the cow. So he slowly advanced, calling soothingly to Brindle. He had taken not a dozen steps when he almost stumbled over the strangest looking little yellow calf that he had ever seen. It was lying curled up in a comfortable nest made in the brakes, its two great ears slowly wagging away the flies. It was a very decided yellow with a short, thick coat. Its eyes were very large and wondering, and it had a spike-tail only a few inches in length. But the most pecul- iar thing of all about the calf was that its head was very large, and it looked almost as though it might topple over if it got to its feet. 106 The King of the Thundering Herd 11 By jiminy," cried Bennie, " old Brin- die has gone and had a calf I " But no, this could not be ; the cow had been new milch only for a few months. The calf was not hers, but she had plainly adopted it. At that moment from far across the river floated the bellow of a distant buffalo. This sound gave just the key to the mystery needed, and the truth flashed across Bennie. It was a buffalo calf, one that had lost its mother and strayed away from the herd. Old Brindle had either adopted it of her own will, or perhaps the little stranger had forced his company upon her. Bennie now went up to old Brindle and got hold of her horns. Then he untied a rope which he had carried about his waist for the purpose and secured the cow, and with Shep bringing up the rear, started to lead her slowly out of the coulee. At the first move upon their part the calf Little Bighead 107 scrambled to his feet with great alacrity and trotted after them, keeping his big head butting away at old Brindle's flanks. This seemed to please the cow, for she looked back and looed at the calf. Thus the pro- cession made their way back to the place that had been appointed for the meeting of the family in the evening. Bennie busied himself getting fire-wood and searching out the best place for camp when the wagon and the rest of the family should arrive. About three o'clock he made out the schooner, perhaps two miles away, coming slowly toward them. Tying old Brindle securely, he went to help his father with the wagon, leaving Shep in charge of the cow and the calf. He found them having a hard time of it, dragging the wagon by means of one mule, and what assistance Mr. Anderson could give him. i o8 The King of the Thundering Herd Bennie at once told the good news of their finding the cow, but said nothing of his other find. This would be his and Shep's surprise for them. At last the wagon lum- bered down to the bank of the river where Shep was keeping guard over his two charges. Just as they came up, the cow, which had been lying down, arose, and the comical little yellow calf, all head and with almost no tail, jumped to his feet and butted play- fully at Shep. The moment that Tommy saw him he cried, " Oh, you dear little Bighead." The name fitted him so well that it was the only one he had until he was two years old. The following day the harness that had been used upon the dead mule was read- justed to the shape of old Brindle, and she was hitched beside Ulysses. Soon the schooner resumed its weary way over the prairies, but at a rather slower pace than Little Bighead 109 before. Mr. Anderson had to walk by Brindle's side, and lead her, as she refused to be driven. They now forded the Missouri River, and for four weeks journeyed westward into the state of Kansas where the gently undulating prairies, traversed by many creeks and riv- ers, greatly pleased Mr. Anderson. One evening just at sunset they came upon a small stream flowing down from the north. This river was perhaps one hundred feet across, and along its banks stretched a beautiful meadow about a mile wide. This meadow-land was not undulating like the prairie, but was made land which the wash of the river had smoothed and enriched. The beaver also had done his part in producing the meadows, as the re- mains of some old beaver dams testified. Mr. Anderson's eye was at once taken with the spot. He saw at a glance that the i io The King of the Thundering Herd meadows were rich and especially fine grass land. Although it was nearly the first of October, the meadow grass was still quite green and higher than the knees. " Here is our stopping-place for the pres- ent," he said, as the schooner came out on the bank of the stream. " I know that it is good water by the looks of it. This is fine land. It is sheltered, and altogether an ideal spot for our home." So a suitable camping-place was selected and the cow and the mule were turned loose upon the meadow. The following morning they began in earnest to make ready for the winter. They had brought a few necessary tools with them, such as carpenters' tools, a plough, shovels, hoes, rakes, and nearly all the small farm-tools. There were two things to consider and these were to provide food and shelter for the winter. In the frontier the stock is Little Bighead usually provided for, even before the human beings, so their first care was to cut and stack several tons of the meadow hay. This occupied nearly two weeks. Then they turned their attention to making winter- quarters. On one side of the stream, about half a mile back from the Kansas River into which their creek emptied, was a woody bluff. This would afford shelter from the winds and also a fuel supply. Accordingly, this spot was selected as the site of their abode. Nature had also favored them here, for they discovered a natural cave in the bluff, which a few days' work made a very comfortable stable for the cow and mule, not to mention Little Bighead, who was now the center of all the plans as far as the young people were concerned. Mrs. Ander- son also was as fond of him as she had ever been of any pet calf back on the Indiana farm. 112 The King of the Thundering Herd Having provided for the stock, Mr. An- derson turned his attention to making suit- able quarters for his family during the winter months. They first dug quite a respectable cellar in the side hill and then builded a log and sod lean-to, part of it underground and part above. This made the cabin warmer than it would have been had all four walls been exposed to the wind and cold, and it was also lighter than an entire dugout would have been. All the cracks and chinks were plastered up tight with mud and clay, and at last it was quite snug. A fine stone chimney was also builded from the under- ground part of the cabin, and this added greatly to its comfort. Having done the most necessary things, Mr. Anderson and Bennie now set them- selves the task of providing meat for the winter. This was also work, but rather more exciting than the house building. Little Bighead They soon discovered that bear and deer were quite plentiful in the bottom-lands along the river, four or five miles farther up-stream. Where there are deer, you can usually find Bruin, for the bear is fond of venison. A week's hunt gave them five fine bearskins, and all the bear meat that they would care for all winter. These bear- skins were a very important part of the furnishing of the cabin, as they added greatly to the warmth and comfort of their abode both by day and night. Venison was also obtained in abundance, and both this, and the bear meat was cut in very thin strips and dried until it was almost as hard as a chip. But when moistened it was again very palatable. Later on they could also shoot different kinds of game and hang it up outside, letting it freeze. In this way it would keep all winter and could be thawed out when- ever necessary. Fish were also added to 114 The King of the Thundering Herd the menu each day. These could be caught whenever they were wanted, and the boys thought it great sport so to furnish the larder. But for the moment I had almost lost sight of Little Bighead, who is from now on the central figure in this story. During the two weeks' march to their final stopping- place, he had been much in evidence. He usually trotted soberly along by the side of old Brindle, but he very frequently frisked and capered off a few rods on his own account. He and Shep were the best of friends from the first. The calf would make believe to butt the dog, at which Shep would growl and show his teeth, and then they would race in and out along the trail in the liveliest manner. Sometimes Shep would stand perfectly still for five minutes and let the buffalo calf suck his ear. This was a favorite pastime of Little Bighead's. Then Shep would Little Bighead 115 suddenly jerk his ear away and seize the calf's leg in his mouth. Sometimes he even tumbled him over, but this was merely in play and the dog and calf were inseparable. They slept together, and were always wan- dering about the meadows together. Shep seemed to think that it devolved upon him to look out for the calf. Finally the snow came and there was little that they could do except stay inside and keep warm. But on pleasant days Bennie and Mr. Anderson went upon long hunting trips. On one of these trips they shot a couple of antelope, some- thing that they had not been able to do before. In the spring they broke land and planted corn and potatoes, and also sowed a little wheat. They likewise had a little patch of a garden which the boys tended. There was always plenty for all to do, and they did their work with a will. Work made n6 The King of the Thundering Herd them brown and strong, with appetites like wolves. Little Bighead grew like a weed, and it was soon apparent that he was to be a mighty buffalo. By the time he was two years old he weighed about eight hundred pounds and took his place in the harness, with either the cow or the mule. His back was broad and flat, and Bennie taught Shep to jump upon him and ride him down to the stream that he might drink. This the buffalo did not seem to mind at all, in fact he rather liked it. It was a laughable and interesting sight to see the dog standing erect and alert as a drum- major, driving the buffalo at a gallop to the river for a drink. No matter how large Little Bighead grew, he did not outgrow his friendship for Shep. Even when the dog would snap at his heels just in fun, he always seemed to understand that it was in play and that Shep was still Little Bighead ny his good friend. Thus this strange friend- ship grew, while the fame of the dog who could ride a buffalo at a gallop went far up and down the state of Kansas. Two more incidents from the rather un- eventful life of Little Bighead will serve to show why he and Shep were such good friends, and how the faithful dog consti- tuted himself the buffalo calf's particular protector. The first of these happened the spring after the Andersons settled down upon their new homestead. It was late in May or early in June and the ploughing and other spring work had been done for weeks. Spring comes early upon these wind-swept prairies, where there is little snow. This particular day was a " scorcher " even upon the prairies, where the hot winds sweep over the broad spaces with their withering breath. One could fairly see the heat shim- mer and dance, while the light looked in- ii8 The King of the Thundering Herd tense and everything seemed much nearer than usual. Shep was lying upon the ground in front of the cabin fast asleep, his nose upon his paws, which were crossed. Suddenly he jumped up, uttering a sharp, short bark, although there had been apparently noth- ing to disturb him. Bennie, who was lying upon the grass near by, called to him, think- ing he had been dreaming. Shep winked and blinked, and for a mo- ment looked wonderingly about, and then without more ado started for the creek, running like the wind. Bennie looked after him in astonishment, but knowing well the dog's keen perception and watch- fulness with everything about the place, started after him, thinking that something out of the ordinary was afoot. When Shep reached the river, upon a sand-bank near a shelving ledge of slate and shale he found his friend Little Big- Little Bighead 119 head stamping and snorting at something upon the sand near by. The dog was still thirty or forty feet away when a huge rattlesnake reared its head almost to the calf's nose and drew back to strike. Without a second's hesitation, although he well knew the danger, Shep sprang between them and with a lucky snap caught the snake by the neck just be- hind the head. Some instinct told him that his only safety lay in holding on, so he sank his teeth deep in the rattler's neck, and held on like the proverbial puppy to a root. For a few seconds there was a lively time upon the sand-spit. The snake writhed and thrashed horribly, winding his body and tail about the dog's neck and nearly shut- ting off his breath, but by degrees the rat- tler ceased his struggles, until at last he lay perfectly limp in the dog's jaws. Then Shep laid him down upon the sand and 12O The King of the Thundering Herd stood over him, watchful lest the snake be playing him some trick. In this attitude Bennie found them, the dog growling and watching the snake, and the calf stamping and snorting and looking as though he did not know what to make of it. When Shep had been petted and told again and again that he was the best dog in the world, Bennie carried the snake up to the cabin, and Shep drove Little Bighead back home at a lively pace, snapping at his heels and barking at every jump. This was clearly the dog's way of punishing the fool- ish calf for his folly in disturbing the snake. The reptile proved to be four feet in length and possessed of about a dozen rat- tles. My readers will at once conclude that the snake was a dozen years old, but that is an error. It is a mistake to count a year for each rattle. Mr. Horniday has at the Bronx rattlesnakes three years old which Little Bighead have seven rattles. Sometimes a snake will develop two rattles a year, and occasionally not any. It all depends upon how many times he sheds his skin. The rattle is a hard bit of skin at the tip of the tail which does not come off in the process of shedding. The second time that Shep came to the rescue of the calf was the same year, but in late November, when the calf was a year and a half old. It was a cold bleak day of scudding wind-clouds and stinging winds that swept the unbroken plains with great force. The ducks had all gone south nearly a month before. The gopher and the prairie dogs had denned up. The mus- quash had builded his house by the stream and everything was in readiness for winter. Little Bighead had wandered half a mile up the creek near which the Andersons were located, looking for choice bits of late grass which the frost had overlooked. Shep was busy on the side hill a quarter of 122 The King of the Thundering Herd a mile below trying to dig out a gopher, when he noticed the young buffalo coming down-stream and running frantically. His loose-jointed legs were working des- perately, and his little spike tail stuck straight up with fright. Almost at the same instant that Shep saw his friend making the run of his life, he discovered that he was closely followed by a great gray wolf, who was gaining upon him steadily. Only the very largest and fiercest dogs are any match for a gray wolf, and even then they usually come off badly in any encounter with the terrible gray fighters. Shep was not a large dog, although he was a fair-sized cattle dog, but Little Bighead was his friend. He had watched over him and protected him ever since he was a wobbly-kneed calf, and he did not hesitate now. Every hair upon his back went fighting mad and he started up the creek to meet his friend. Little Bighead 123 As the yearling was running frantically down the creek and Shep was going up, it did not take long to cover the intervening distance. In almost less time than it takes to tell, the buffalo raced by a clump of bushes where the faithful dog had crouched for his spring upon the wolf. The gray hunter was so intent upon his quarry that the first intimation he had of the dog was when Shep sprang full in his face and gripped him by the loose skin at the side of the throat. The dog had tried for the throat grip, but had gotten a mouthful of loose skin instead. Shep held on for dear life, for he well knew that if once the wolf got free, he would soon make things interesting for him, while the wolf struggled frantically. Over and over they went in the brush, the wolfs jaws working like a mighty steel- trap, but they only clicked upon air. As good luck would have it, Bennie had 1 24 The King of the Thundering Herd just started up the creek to look at some beaver-traps which he had set that fall, and met Little Bighead running frantically for the stable. The yearling, he knew, would not be running like that without cause, so Bennie hurried in the opposite direction. He came upon Shep and the struggling wolf in the nick of time, for the wolf had just freed himself and was in the act of springing upon the dog, who stood at bay and ready to fight to the death, although he would have been overpowered and killed in a few minutes. Bennie raised his rifle for a snap-shot, and sent a bullet whistling over the wolfs head. He did not dare fire low and di- rectly at him for fear of hitting the dog. The gray wolf turned with a snarl, but see- ing the boy with the rifle and smelling gun- powder, he disappeared in the bushes with a single bound, leaving Shep and Bennie in full possession of the field. Little Bighead So was it any wonder after adventures like these that Shep grew to consider him- self the particular guardian of the foolish buffalo, who did not know enough to take care of himself, or that the young bison came to look upon Shep as his friend and preserver, his good angel who would always appear in the hour of peril ? CHAPTER IV A STRANGE RIDE CHAPTER IV A STRANGE RIDE THE two years that had passed, during which time Little Bighead had grown from a fuzzy yellow buffalo calf into a sturdy young bull of eight or nine hundred weight, had seen wonders wrought upon the land which the Andersons called their homestead. Like all frontier people they had come West for business. Success was not to be had merely for the taking. It had to be wrung from the earth here as anywhere else. But here the natural conditions were of the best. All that nature could do for the fertile acres of their meadows she had done. For hundreds of years the silt from the river had been piling up on these meadows, un- til now the plough turned up a rich black 13 The King of the Thundering Herd loam, that did not give way to clay, even two or three feet down. But some one had to hold the plough, and sow the seed and reap the harvest. All these things the Anderson family were willing to do. So when the first red glow came into the east and the prairie lark mounted skyward, they had already turned their first furrow ; and long after the moon swung her silver censer out of the east and the countless stars appeared, they went up and down the endless furrows. When Little Bighead was two years old, he took his place beside Ulysses and helped draw the plough. At first he could not keep up his end for more than an hour or two, as he was young and soft, but by degrees he toughened and his muscles strengthened, until when he was three or four years old, he became as strong and faithful as any ox. It was for his young master Bennie, A Strange Ride 131 though, that he best loved to work. Ben- nie had broken him to harness and also taught him to drive under the whip like an ox. Bennie could summon him from any part of the farm as far as he could hear his master's prolonged call, at the sound of which the young buffalo would come trot- ting or galloping from the more distant portions of their homestead. He knew well that Bennie would reward his faithful- ness with a turnip, or, if he could not do any better, that he would pull him a tender wisp of grass. But as the buffalo grew strong of limb and broad of back, the name Little Bighead, which had described him to a nicety the morning Bennie had found him upon the north bank of the Missouri, hidden by old Brindle under a cottonwood, became a sad misfit. His head was no longer so badly out of proportion to the rest of his body. So finally Bennie rechristened him, and he iy, The King of the Thundering Herd received the rather homely but substantial name of Buck, a name well fitted to the sturdy ox that he had become. Not only did the Andersons improve their land, but they also finally builded a very respectable log cabin. This was after the quarters for the animals had been en- larged and improved. In fact, the live stock finally went into the dugout that the family had themselves first used. It is always the way of frontier people to first provide for the stock and then for the humans. The third year of their sojourn in this new fertile land a Swedish family settled three miles down the river, and the Ander- sons had neighbors. Before, their nearest neighbors had been eight miles away, still farther down the Kansas. Also when Buck was three years old Bennie made a sledge or sled to which he hitched the buffalo whenever he wanted A Strange Ride 133 to go on a journey. This sled was a rude home-made affair, although it did good service. It was made by cutting two ash poles twelve or fifteen feet long, and perhaps three inches in diameter at the butt. These poles were peeled and then the larger end was heated very hot by holding it for a time in a bed of live coals, but not long enough to set it on fire. This made the poles pliable, so that they could be bent without breaking. One end was then curved nicely to make a runner, and the shaping of the rest of the sled was easy. After the snow had come, this vehicle was used to haul light loads of wood, or al- most anything that they wished to haul. Even upon bare ground it would slip over the thick buffalo grass quite easily. When the first snow had come, on very cold days the prairie chickens, which were plentiful, would dive under the snow to keep warm. Then it was that Bennie and his 134 The K* n 9 f the Thundering Herd father would drive about with this rude sled, using Buck as a horse, hunting the chickens. As the sled went crunching through the snow, it would scare up the game, which would fly a dozen rods or so, and then plump down in the snow. They would mark the spot, and then Bennie would creep up carefully and shoot the chicken with his rifle. In this way seventy- five or a hundred birds could be secured in a day. When they got them home they simply ripped the skin off the breast and cut out that large fine chunk of meat, throwing away the rest of the bird. These chicken breasts were salted down, and it was not an uncom- mon thing for the Andersons to have half a barrel of this meat on hand at a time. This seems like a great waste to us, but the coun- try was new and swarmed with game and fish, so the settlers merely took what they could get the easiest, and if they were ex- A Strange Ride 135 travagant, nature was prodigal, and always supplied them more than they could use. The same fall Bennie and Buck went upon a journey of fifty miles to the small frontier town of Pine Bluffs, where there was to be a merrymaking, according to the ideas of a rough frontier people. Husking was done, and the hard-working plains-folk were in for a good time. There was to be a turkey-shoot, some horse-races, and a wolf- hunt at the end. It was Bennie's wish to exhibit his buffalo, and particularly to have the people see Shep ride, for the fame of this bareback rider had traveled far. They were two or three days making the trip, but finally reached their destination, where they were cordially received accord- ing to the frontier way, which is to give the stranger the best in the house. In the turkey-shoot Bennie easily distin- guished himself, although he did not get 136 The King of the Thundering Herd first prize, which went to a grizzled old Kentuckian ; but Bennie was glad enough to rank second among these sure shots. It was no wonder that he could shoot, for his little rifle had scarcely been out of his hands for the past six years. Away back in Indiana, when he was a slip of a boy, he had learned to plug squirrels through the head, and this made the large game of the plains an easy mark. Bennie entered Buck in the races, which were running races between the scrub ponies and broncos. In the short distance Buck could not start quickly enough to win, but in a five-mile race across rough country he easily came in ahead, to the great delight of the crowd, which roared itself hoarse as the ponderous buffalo came pounding in at the home-stretch. But greatest of all was the interest in the dog rider. Shep was such a good-natured dog that he had won the hearts of all, even A Strange Ride 137 before they saw him ride, but after that astonishing event, which was the nearest approach to a circus that the frontier could boast, he was fairly spoiled with petting and admiration. He punctuated all his riding with a sharp, imperative voice, that urged the buffalo to his fastest pace, but he also did many things similar to those done by circus-dogs which have been trained to ride for exhibition. He would ride standing perfectly erect, and straight as a drum-major. Then he would ride lying down, as though he were an Indian trying to escape arrows or bullets. Then he would turn about and ride with his head toward the buffalo's tail, and all the time his face was covered with a doggish grin that plainly said, " Don't you see how well I can do it ? " But the most wonderful thing of all that our circus-dog did was to mount while the buffalo was in motion. First, Bennie would 138 The King of the Thundering Herd hold Shep, who was all eagerness, trembling and panting to do his trick, while Buck trotted slowly by. At just the right mo- ment Bennie would let go the dog's collar, and Shep would spring lightly to the buf- falo's back. Then Buck would be called back, and sent by at a sharp trot when the dog would mount as before. But when Shep bounded lightly to his uncertain seat and gained his balance, while the buffalo was going at a pounding gallop, the settlers fairly yelled themselves hoarse. All good times, however, come to a close, and so this one did, for finally the fun was over, and Bennie hitched Buck into the sled and they started home, feeling well repaid for their trouble, although the out- ing going and coming, and two days at the Bluffs, had consumed nearly a week. When Buck was four years old, and Ben- nie was a stalwart, self-reliant boy of fifteen, A Strange Ride 139 he decided to take a long journey going northward for several hundred miles, up into the very heart of the buffalo country. The mighty herds that he had seen four years before, while crossing the prairies of Missouri in the schooner, were now no longer seen in such numbers, although the slaughter of the northern herd had not yet begun. But as though in premonition of the coming disaster, they withdrew of their own accord. The mighty herd that had thundered past on that eventful night, when the emi- grants lay trembling with fright under the schooner, had gripped the boy's imagina- tion. He longed to see its counterpart again ; to feel once more the solid prairie shake as though with the passing of an earthquake and to see the shaggy frontlets of buffalo bulls as countless as the stars. His mother was very loath to let him go. The Indians all along the frontier were of 140 The King of the Thundering Herd uncertain temper. While most of them pretended friendliness for the time being, yet they would often take pot-shots at the frontiersman from behind friendly trees. But Bennie had been brought up in an atmosphere of danger. His life was inured to hardship, and a love of adventure tingled in his veins. He wanted to see the world, just as the normal country boy wants to see the city. The only world that was at hand for him to explore was the wilderness to the northwest. For a long time his father was in doubt as to whether he would let him go. He felt himself that there was some danger in the trip, but when he saw how restive his son was, and how he longed to be off, he finally gave his consent. It was a memorable day in the life of the Anderson family when Bennie, mounted upon Buck, carrying his small rifle and the Colt's revolver, and with a rude tent and A Strange Ride 141 camp-supplies lashed behind him, started forth on his trip. His mother kissed him through blinding tears, for she felt as though she would never see him again, while Tommy was all tears because he could not go too. Mr. Anderson gripped the boy's hand with a clasp that he recalled for many days, and bade him, as he loved his parents, to take good care of him- self and not run any useless risks. It was a crisp morning in late September and the outlines of the distant bluffs along the river were wrapped in a blue haze almost like smoke. A few flight birds had already begun their long journey south- ward, and there was evidence that others would soon follow, for small flocks could be heard chattering among the wild plums and in the brambles. The young prairie- chickens were nearly grown and very plen- tiful. Game that would have delighted the palate of an epicure could be had 142 The King of the Thundering Herd merely for the price of powder and ball. The air was like new wine, causing the blood to tingle and the heart to throb with joy, and the body to exult in its strength. Bennie thought that the world had never looked so fair, or life seem so sweet as on this morning. It was the only vacation that he had taken since they came West, with the possible exception of the trip to the Bluffs, where he had given the exhibi- tion of Shep's riding. Poor old Shep, how he had teased to come along. The last sight of home and the home friends that the boy remembered was the friendly face of Shep gazing over the distant hilltop after his young master. For the better part of the way they went at a slow trot, which might perhaps cover three miles an hour. This gait was varied by occasionally stopping to walk, or some- times Bennie put Buck to his cumbersome gallop, which, considering the size of the A Strange Ride 143 buffalo, was a surprisingly fast pace. This gait did not seem to tire Buck and it gave a little added excitement and varied the monotony. Each evening they camped, preferably near to water, and the boy turned his buf- falo steed out to grass. It was while in camp at night that he most missed the home friends, and Shep. On some of those lonely nights when the coyotes were howling and he seemed utterly alone in the vast endless prairies, what would he not have given to pillow his head upon the warm coat of Shep, and feel his confiding, snuggling muzzle in his hand. Two weeks of this leisurely traveling brought him to the La Platte, a broad, shallow river which he forded, and then once more pushed on to the northwest, following in a general way the course of the buffalo trails. It was not many days before the buffalo 144 The King of the Thundering Herd signs began to multiply. The northern herd had not yet felt the inroads of the robe-hunters, although in the four years since the Andersons had come West, the southern herd, numbering hundreds of millions of head, had nearly disappeared. Man was not alarmingly destructive to the buffalo beyond the distance at which he could readily pack his hides into market, so buffalo were still found in great numbers a hundred miles north of the Union Pacific road. Gradually, however, as the steam- boats plying upon the Missouri River, to accommodate the settlements that sprang up like mushrooms in a single night upon its banks, grew more numerous, the herds were forced farther north and northwest, until they finally took refuge in the Dako- tas and Montana. Two weeks of traveling, in the manner already described, carried our young ex- plorer well into the territory of Dakota, A Strange Ride 145 and he now began to see buffalo in such numbers that he was again reminded of the great herd they had seen in Northern Missouri four years before. Every slope upon the prairie was dotted with them, buffalo feeding and lying down, bulls and cows, calves and yearlings ; rusty old bulls with their coat, much of which was still unshed, hanging in tatters, and sleek young bulls shining like satin ; nervous young heifers with their first calves, and demure old cows that had mothered many a sturdy calf. Not only was the landscape literally covered with bison, but their signs were everywhere : buffalo trails leading to the creeks cut three feet deep in the solid earth ; cotton woods and sycamores entirely stripped of their bark in the rubbing proc- ess, the turf, in good feeding places, liter- ally covered with buffalo chips. This in turn enriched the grass and made the next 146 The King of the Thundering Herd year's feeding all the better, so the buffalo gave where he took, and the earth was not denuded for long. For the greater part, the bison seemed peaceable enough among themselves al- though there was occasionally a fight to the death among the bulls, where some king of the herd was being dethroned. While Bennie stayed upon the back of Buck, he attracted no attention, but as soon as he dismounted, he was an object of suspicion and disfavor. He soon learned that it was well to keep within easy reach of Buck, who was his refuge as far as the buffalo were concerned. He occasionally came across Indian signs, an old abandoned camp, or a trail where an entire village had been moving, the dragging of their lodge-poles making a very plain track and on one or two oc- casions met with friendly hunting parties. One advantage he had in riding his buffalo A Strange Ride 147 was that he left no trail which an inquisi- tive and hostile Indian could translate as connected with a white man. Bison-tracks covered the earth in all directions, and Buck's were just like the rest. If he had been riding a pony, Bennie did not doubt that he would have had a bunch of Indians trailing him long before. Since he traveled upon a buffalo, however, his most advan- tageous course was to keep where the bison were most plentiful ; so he went in the thick of the herd. Three weeks more he journeyed to the northwest, going along the course of the Missouri, or keeping near to it, and the wonder of the land and the countless incon- ceivable host of the bison grew upon him all the time. Three weeks more carried him well up into what is now Southern Dakota, and still the numbers of bison grew, rather than diminished. But what would our young explorer have thought 1 48 The King of the Thundering Herd could he have seen the landscape as a whole, for six or eight hundred miles to the north- west and the north ? What would he have said if you had told him that he could have traveled for two months more, away up through the Dakotas into what is now Montana, and almost to the Canadian border, and that nearly every hillside in all that distance would have been dotted with buffalo ; that to the north through what is now North Dakota, they were just as thick, an innumerable host, like the trees in an endless forest, always stretching on with new vistas ahead, overwhelming in their countless array ? If you had told him these things, he might have been incredulous, which would not have been strange, for old hunters, who have pursued buffalo all their lives, have been thunder-struck when they have gone upon such an exploration as this. One day on the fifth week of his journey Bennie came to a rather large creek flowing A Strange Ride 149 down from the north and emptying into the Missouri, and for a diversion he left the larger river to follow the creek. After a two days* journey he discovered that it was a favorite feeding-ground for the bison. For a mile on each side the creek was flanked with a beautiful meadow which reminded Bennie of the home acres. Upon these meadows the grass was still green and the feeding was excellent. One evening, just at dusk, he came out upon the top of a swell about two miles from the creek. The weather, that had been ideal for the entire trip, was now threatening. Heavy thunder-heads were rolling up in the west, and even while he gazed at the lower- ing clouds, a low rumble of thunder was heard. For five minutes Bennie sat watch- ing the storm develop, and then he thought of shelter. The bison seemed ill at ease. Low complaining bellows came floating over the prairies from every direction, min- 1 50 The King of the Thundering Herd gled with the disturbed bleatings of calves. It was as though the herd shared the tumult in the breast of mother na- ture. Then came a bright flash of lightning and a heavy peal of thunder and the bison began massing in small compact bunches. These in turn gravitated toward a common center, and almost before Bennie was aware of what was happening, he and Buck were in the midst of a great restless multitude of bison which stretched away for a dozen rods in every direction. His first thought was to get out of the crush, but he soon saw that it was impossible, for with each passing minute, new bunches joined themselves with the large herd, until it was half a mile across. This much Bennie saw before the clouds settled over the earth so thickly that he could no longer discern the herd stretch- ing away in every direction. An intense ex- citement ran like an electric current through A Strange Ride 151 the great herd. It was communicated from animal to animal by rapid breathing, toss- ings of the head and jerkings of the short spike-like tails, and the stamping of many hoofs. The very air was surcharged with excitement. With each successive flash of lightning and each reverberating peal of thunder, the crowding and pushing, snorting and stamp- ing increased until the entire mass was turbulent like an angry sea, tossing this way and that. To add to the confusion, the air was filled with deep, angry bellows, low moans from crowding bulls, and long, quavering lows from anxious cows, who feared that their calves might be killed in the crush, while their lusty offspring added to the din by calling loudly and persistently for their dams. For half an hour more Buck and Bennie crowded and pushed, fighting for their 1 52 The King of the Thundering Herd position in the excited herd, while the light- ning and the thunder constantly increased. Then for a minute there was a lull in the fireworks of the heavens ; but the elements were merely gathering strength, for presently there was a flash so bright that Bennie saw the entire herd as plainly as though it had been broad daylight. The great shaggy heads of the bulls with their black beards and their eyes, usually mild enough, now blazing with fear and rage, loomed up before him. For a thousandth part of a second every detail of the scene stood out like a hid- eous nightmare; then there was a peal of thunder that seemed fairly to crack the heavens. Again and again it rolled from horizon to zenith, snapping and snarling like the very demon of destruction. The pent-up fear of the herd now broke all bounds. For a moment they swayed this way and that, and then with one im- pulse they were off, crowding, pushing, A Strange Ride 153 thundering, pounding, making the solid earth to shake as though with the passing of an earthquake. At first, the herd moved slowly, just as an avalanche or any other of the great de- structive forces of nature move, but like the avalanche it gained headway with each passing second. With each added moment the pounding of tens of thousands of hoofs grew louder until it was like the constant thunder of mighty breakers upon the beet- ling cliffs. Sometimes they were crowded together like cattle in a cattle car, and then they would sway apart, and there was freedom for both man and beast. Whither they were going, God only knew. Bennie had no idea whether it was north, south, east, or west, whether they were out in the open prairie or still in the meadows, whether the next ten jumps would carry them safely over the solid earth, or whether they would 1 54 The King of the Thundering Herd plunge, a horrible frenzied mass, into a coulee or a canyon. But one thing was certain, whether the way was smooth, or rough, the herd would still sweep on. What would it matter if a few score head went into the bottom of a gulch to bridge over the crevasse that the rest might cross ? The entire mass was fear-mad, wholly without sense of wisdom, even without their usual intuition, rushing like a tidal wave, a sea of tense muscles and straining sinews, to what end no one could tell. Bennie dropped the little rifle that he treasured above almost any other posses- sion in the world, and buried his hands in the long thick hair of Buck. He set his teeth hard and gripped the sides of the buffalo with his legs. The roar of those myriad hoofs was like constant thunder in his ears. His heart was sick within him. Would he ever see home and friends again ? A Strange Ride i_55 Then he wished with all his soul that he had not come upon this expedition. Why had he not heeded his mother's advice and stayed peacefully at home? If they were to plunge into an abyss, he would be ground to pulp. His friends would not even know what had become of him. There would be no one to tell of his tragic fate. The smell of the heated, straining wild cattle rose pungently to his nostrils. Was the whole world one rushing, seething herd of maddened bisons ? So it seemed to the terrified boy. Once Buck plunged into a deep hole and Bennie nearly lost his seat, but by a great effort the buffalo recovered himself and they thundered on. Bennie shuddered to think what would have become of him had the bison fallen. This experience was barely over when the buffalo began floun- dering about as though in a quagmire. 156 The King of the Thundering Herd Mud and water were thrown up in showers. Twice Buck seemed stuck beyond hope of recovering his power to move. But with mighty wrenchings he freed himself and swept on with the rest of the floundering mass. For five minutes more they thundered on and then suddenly the herd seemed jam- ming in front of them. Buck sheered off to the right, making his way through a little opening that had appeared at just the nick of time. Then he gave a great leap down a steep bank and Bennie nearly went over his head. But slipping and sliding the buffalo came to good footing again, and after scrambling up a corresponding bank they again swept on with the herd. It was now raining hard and the thun- der and lightning had ceased. Gradually the herd slackened its pace. By degrees the thunder of their myriad hoofs grew less, and just as the madness had come upon A Strange Ride 157 them, it went. They slowed down to a trot, then to a walk. The clouds now rolled away and the moon came out. By its rather dim light, Bennie could see the great herd slowly disintegrating, the large herd breaking up into small ones, and these in turn gradually spreading out into the old company, like feedingcattle in the home pasture in Indiana. With a great sigh of relief, and a silent prayer to heaven, returning thanks for his escape, just as his mother had taught him to do for little things when he was a small child, Bennie slid to the ground and felt himself over. He seemed to be entirely whole. Buck, too, was all right, only he was covered with mud from head to tail. But the principal thing was that they were safe. Then and there the boy vowed that with the coming daylight he would start for home and not risk his neck any more in this wildcat manner. 158 The King of the Thundering Herd The following morning Bennie went back over the trail of the stampede as nearly as he could, looking for the little rifle that he prized so highly, but found nothing of it, although he made some discoveries concern- ing the stampede. He found that the gulch into which they had plunged, when he had been so nearly unseated, varied greatly in depth. In some places it was twenty or thirty feet deep, while in others there was merely a sharply sloping bank. It was at such a point that he and Buck must have made their passage. At one point, where it was deeper than anywhere else, there was a pitiful sight, for the crevasse had been filled entirely full of buffalo and the rest of the herd had passed over upon the bodies of their fallen comrades. The gorge was still piled with dead and maimed bison, many of them kicking and thrashing, and their bawling and moaning could be heard for a mile. A Strange Ride 159 He also found the morass through which he and Buck had plunged their way. They had been more fortunate than many of the herd, for scores of bison still foundered in the quicksands, some of them just showing above the black earth which was soon to engulf them. Heart-sick at such sights, and shudder- ing at what he had so narrowly missed, Bennie turned Buck's head southward, and started back toward the Missouri with all possible speed. One more adventure he had that might have had a tragic ending, but did not. He had nearly reached the Missouri and was riding leisurely along, just at dusk, when he noticed a great commotion among the buffalo half a mile behind him. He was upon a rise in the prairie and in a good position to see, so stopped for a moment to investigate. Presently the cause for their fright was 160 The King of the Thundering Herd apparent, for half a dozen mounted Indians were discovered riding among them, shoot- ing with bow and arrows instead of fire- arms. That was why their approach had been so silent, and Bennie had known noth- ing of the hunt until this stirring scene came almost under his eyes. Presently he could hear the excited yells of the Indians, and as he did not know whether they were peaceful or hostile, and as all Indians were more or less dangerous, he started Buck for- ward at his best pace and rode hard all night and all the next day. At last familiar scenes, peculiarities in the landscape that he had noted in the trip up, began to reappear. Finally he was able so to time the return trip that he could stop at his old camping-places each night. Now his only thought was to get back home, so he bent his every energy to covering the distance between himself and father and mother and brother. A Strange Ride 161 On the way out, he had often gone aside from his course for half a day, but now there were no digressions of this nature. Something, perhaps it was the wind, seemed to be whispering " Home, Home, Home," and the great Missouri also took up the re- frain and roared it at all her shallows. Three weeks brought the broad La Platte River again in sight. This was the begin- ning of the end. Four or five days more would finish the long journey. These last few days seemed like weeks, the home hunger was now so great. Ben- nie rode late into the evening each day and broke camp before daylight. The fourth day at about noon he thought he saw a wolf upon a distant rise in the prairie. The figure was certainly that of a wolf. Then upon the clear air, which car- ries sound to a great distance, he heard a high-keyed bark, and the wolf came rush- ing toward him like a mad creature. For 162 The King of the Thundering Herd once Bennie was wholly deceived and reached down for the Colt's revolver, but in another minute faithful old Shep came bounding over a near-by swell, barking glee- fully at every jump. Frantically he leaped upon Buck's back beside his young master and Bennie hugged him with all his might. He was only a dog but there was something almost human in Shep's greeting, and when Bennie remembered that his faithful friend had come five miles up the river to meet him, a great lump gathered in the boy's throat. What a strange sense it was, too, that had told Shep that his master was near. They made the rest of the trip together upon the buffalo's back, and two hours later the mead- ows and the log cabin and all the well- remembered scenes came in sight, and the strange journey was over. CHAPTER V THE NEW KING CHAPTER V THE NEW KING THE very next day after the return from their long journey Bennie and Buck went to work at the fall ploughing. They had played so long that this work was late, so now there could be no more dallying. From this time on until snow flew they must go up and down the long furrows, whether they liked it or not. Bennie could think of his trip, and recounting the many wonderful things that he had seen helped to vary the monotony. If Buck remembered, he gave no sign, but Bennie was inclined to think in after years that he was thinking in his dim ox-like way, all that autumn while they were doing the ploughing. One thing was certain, whether it was 166 The King of the Thundering Herd the trip or some other silent influence, this autumn marked a change in the disposition of Buck. Of course it was gradual, but it was nevertheless sure. Before the buffalo had been as stolid as an ox, all patience, slow in his movements, slow to comprehend, and never ruffled by anything. Never had he shown the slight- est sign of temper up to this autumn. But he now became restive. He would sometimes stamp the ground and paw as though irritated by something. He would also jerk his head and twitch his tail when the whip flicked him, as though impatient of being goaded about by this ever-tickling lash. At first Bennie thought his collar must hurt him and readjusted it, but that made no difference. Buck was clearly out of sorts with the world, or with his lot, or with something. He would not stand the teasing of his The New King 167 old friend Shep as formerly : when the dog nipped at his heels in play he would lash out viciously at him, and if Shep undertook to snap at his nose in fun, he would lunge at him savagely. His eye too lost something of its mild ox-like expression and a sullen fire was often seen to glow in its depths. When Buck finally balked and refused to draw the plough for a whole half day Ben- nie was thunderstruck. What did it mean ? He coaxed and whipped and then coaxed again but all to no purpose. When he told Shep to nip the buffalo's heels, Buck lashed out so viciously that he sent the poor dog sprawling, to his great astonishment and disgust. Bennie finally saw that there was nothing to do but wait upon the bison's pleasure, so he unhitched Ulysses and went to harrow- ing with the mule. For a whole half day Buck stood in the furrow gazing off across 168 The King of the Thundering Herd the prairies, not turning his head this way or that, but just gazing sullenly ahead. Finally, after dark his young master coaxed him into the stable. On the mor- row he was back in the harness working as before, but he could never be depended upon again, for every three or four days he would balk, and nothing could budge him. After the snows came and he was stabled for the better part of the time, he seemed to get over this restlessness and sullennees, and would again allow Shep to ride him to the creek and bark and caper about him, but with the return of spring the old fit was upon him again. Now he seemed even more restive than in the fall and he would paw and stamp and throw his head from side to side at the slightest provocation. He clearly was out of sorts with all the world, and particularly with his own lot, but what was the matter no one seemed to know just then. The New King 169 One afternoon, when they had been ploughing only three days, Buck balked just as he had done in the autumn and when Bennie pulled the harness from him and threw it on the ground he kicked up his heels and started for the creek at his best pace. Shep happened to be in the field near by, watching some magpies, which were follow- ing the plough, pick up worms, and Bennie called to him to go after the bison. Noth- ing loath, Shep started after the truant, barking gleefully as much as to say, " I will bring him back in a few minutes. You just see." But strange to relate, his master did not see either him or the buffalo again that day. Not that day nor that week. In fact, it was eight years before Bennie again set eyes upon Buck, and Shep only returned after the lapse of four months, and then he came dragging him- self painfully home, nearly dead with hun- ger and suffering. i jo The King of the Thundering Herd Shep, like his master, did not doubt his ability to bring Buck back in a few min- utes, although whether he would be willing to work any more that day or not was quite another question. So the faithful dog gal- loped after the runaway buffalo. When Buck reached the creek, instead of stopping to drink and wade about in the shallows as Shep had expected, the bison plunged into the river and waded across. There was nothing for Shep to do but follow, so he swam across and started after Buck, who had struck off across the meadows going up the creek parallel with it. Shep got upon the outside of him and by springing at his nose and snapping, tried to head him back toward home, but Buck would not be headed. He only lunged savagely at the dog when he got too persistent and kept on his way as though he knew quite well where he was going. When he had followed the creek for two The New King 171 or three miles, he again crossed it and turned back toward the river, coining out several miles above the Andersons' homestead. In this manner he had entirely circled the farm and was now well above it on his way northward. At this point Shep made a desperate effort to turn the bison back south. He snapped at his nose until Buck was in a frenzy and would have done him real injury if he could have gotten within reach of him, but with that remarkable agility that collie and shepherd dogs have, in common with wolves, he always kept just out of reach and at the same time was within snapping dis- tance. Seeing that Buck could not be turned in this way, he tried snapping at his heels, which caused Buck to lash out savagely at him every time he came within reach. One thing was sure, he had lost all control over the bison ; and another thing was also IJ2 The King of the Thundering Herd certain, Buck was headed northward, and was evidently intent on running away from his master. What was poor Shep to do? He had never failed his master yet. When he had been told to bring home anything, whether it was a steer or old Buck, he had always done it. So he kept after the truant with a dogged persistency that did not let up though the task seemed almost hopeless. For three days they kept up what might be called a running fight, Buck trotting or walking as best suited him and Shep con- stantly going before him and barking and snapping, trying to head him back, or wor- rying at his heels. Sometimes the buffalo would stop to feed, and then Shep would sit down upon his haunches and watch him, or perhaps he would stray off for a little distance to see if he could catch a gopher, or dig out a mole or a field-mouse. At such times Buck would take advantage and The New King 173 try to slip away and throw his friend off the scent, but the sure nose of Shep always took up the trail and after perhaps half an hour he would come panting up with the unruly buffalo. Finally late in the afternoon of the third day a painful accident befell the dog. In jumping down the side of a coulee after the fleeing bison, he stuck a savage stub nearly through his paw. This would not have been so bad but the stub broke off and left a bad sliver in the wounded member. For half an hour more Shep limped after his charge on three legs, occasionally whim- pering, or stopping to bite at his paw, try- ing vainly to extricate the stub ; but finally the foot swelled so badly that he was obliged to give up and sit down upon a hillock and see Buck gallop away toward the wester- ing sun free from pursuit. Then began two or three very miserable 174 The King of the Thundering Herd days for Shep. His paw swelled to twice its natural size, and pained him constantly. He was obliged to lie still by the river and doctor his wound the best he could. He dug a small hole in the clay bank of the river and buried his paw in the clay. This helped to draw out the inflammation. Finally the brave dog performed a sur- gical operation. Biting open the upper side of his paw, although it made him whimper and quiver, he got hold of the end of the stub with his teeth and pulled it out. He then rinsed and rinsed the throbbing paw in the river, thus washing out all the pus, and finally began a licking process which he kept up every few minutes for a day or two. It was surprising how soon under this simple ministration the wound began to heal. It is not generally known, but a dog's saliva is both antiseptic and healing, so that when the dog licked the sores of Lazarus, The New King 175 that afflicted man really had the very best kind of a doctor. It was four days after the accident, though, before Shep was enabled again to take up the trail of the fugitive, which by this time was entirely cold, and could not be followed by scent. One would naturally think that the dog would have turned his nose homeward. The trail was cold and his particular bison was like a needle in a haymow upon these endless plains. But his master's orders, " Go bring Buck," were still ringing in his ears, and he could not return without him. So Shep started on up the river, feeling quite sure that the bison was headed in that direction and that he would not go so very far from it. For a whole day he did not see a sign of his friend, but the second even- ing he found hoof prints in the sand where he thought Buck had come down to a creek to drink. It was the print of a bison's hoof, 1 76 The King of the Thundering Herd and although Shep sniffed at it several times he could not be sure that it was Buck's track, for all scent had left it. But the find- ing of this hoof print encouraged Shep and he redoubled his efforts and fled on to the northwest, following by instinct the best he could. In the meantime faithless old Buck had apparently made good his escape. He had gone over the same route that he and his master had traveled the autumn before. This was probably what he had been dream- ing of in his stupid ox-like way all the time. The naturalist who says that certain animals do not possess memories, and very good ones, does not share my own opinion. I have frequently had a horse turn in at some forgotten barway or wood road, where I had driven him so long before that all memory of it had escaped me. Perhaps it was five years or maybe it was even ten, but the horse's memory was sure. The New King 177 So it was with Buck. He doubtless re- called so well the way which he and his mas- ter had journeyed, that he could have gone over the trail with more certainty than his master could have driven him. But when he came near any of the towns or settle- ments where they had stopped before, he made a long detour and came out on the trail beyond the towns. Whether he feared that some one might drive him back home, or whether it was his natural wild instinct asserting itself, who shall say ? Having scouted the towns safely he pressed on with all speed, at last reaching the Missouri and following it up into the very heart of the land of the bison. As he journeyed, the impatience that he had felt at the outset grew upon him. There was something in that vast lonely prairie land that he wanted, wanted above all else in the world. It was not feed, it was not water, for he had both in abundance. It 178 The King of the Thundering Herd was probably partly a longing for his kind, for he was an alien in the settlement of man. His place was in the great herds. Man had stolen away his freedom. So free- dom and a longing for his kind was a part of his great desire, but there was still some- thing else. He did not discover what it was until one moonlight night when he had penetrated far into the Dakotas. He had seen many bison but had not become familiar with them. It was as though he lacked the real buffalo code or speech. None of his wild kindred seemed to fraternize with him. The bulls usually began pawing the dirt about their heads and bellowing in an- ger when he appeared, and the cows and calves seemed rather afraid of him. The fact was, Buck was a mighty buffalo bull, larger by two or three hundred pounds than any that he met. His work upon the farm had made him much stronger than the The New King 179 ordinary bull, but he was a Goliath who knew not his strength. On this moonlight night in question he was wandering about in a restless manner, seeking something, yet not knowing just what he sought, when he heard near at hand a high-keyed, prolonged bellow that somehow sounded sweet to his ears. You or I would have thought it a very dismal call, but to Buck it was the sound for which he had long been waiting. So he hurried to find the stranger, all elation, blowing great breaths that looked like steam from his nostrils. Down by the creek he found her, a young heifer bison. She was standing knee-deep in the water drinking. When he came in sight she again lifted her head and sent her tremulous bellow across the plains. Buck hurried forward and waded into the water beside her. He thrust his great shaggy head close to her neck and she 180 The King of the Thundering Herd turned partly about and touched his nose with hers. As her warm breath filled his nostrils and her rough tongue stole out to caress his muzzle, Buck knew that he had found that for which he sought. The bison do not mate permanently as do the deer family, being more bigamous, but Buck and the young heifer stuck closely to each other for several days, and this was as near a honeymoon as he could come. The company of the young heifer satis- fied the longing that had made him so rest- less ever since he had gone into the land of the bison, but there was still another pas- sion within that would not let him rest. Every time one of the belligerent bulls threw up dust and bellowed defiantly at him, he felt this passion. It was the grow- ing lust for battle, the natural rage of the male against all other males, which might be possible rivals, rivals in love or war. It is the nature of the male, be it man or The New King animal, to want to dominate. This passion makes both mighty generals and King Bison. So as the battle lust grew upon Buck, he began taking up the challenge of those who defied him, and soon discovered that most of them were no match for him. Each bull that he discomfited added to his pride and his love of battle. So it was not long be- fore he was constantly on the war-path, look- ing for a bull who should stand and give battle to the death when he challenged. The fighting of the bull buffalo is not as scientific as that of bull moose. He has not the dexterity of the moose. Hence there could be no fine sword-play, with thrust and parry, advance and retreat. With the bison it was more a matter of direct attack. To break down your adver- sary's guard, to rip him in the side of the neck, or to make him turn tail and then bury the sharp horns deep in his soft un- 182 The King of the Thundering Herd protected flanks, this was the bison's form of warfare. But challenging everything that he met soon brought Buck an adversary that tried his last ounce of strength and his utmost cunning, and even then he might have paid the price of his life for his belligerence, had not chance favored him. It was about a week after Buck's first meeting with the young bison heifer, and that diversion had partly worn off and he was ripe for another venture. This morn- ing, after getting his fill of grass, he had been restlessly roaming up and down, uttering defiant bellows and putting smaller bulls to flight almost as soon as they saw him, when he came to a high butte about two miles back from the creek which he was then following. There was a small herd of ma- ture bulls about the base of the butte and there was some excitement among them, for they moved restlessly to and fro. The New King 183 Buck pressed in among them, pushing his great hulk from point to point like the giant he was. Soon he came to the foot of the butte where he could see its summit plainly and there upon the crest of the em- inence was the mightiest bison bull that he had ever seen. He was standing with head lowered pawing up dirt until a small cloud of dust partly enveloped him, but one could still discern his blood-red eyes that blazed defiantly through the dust. He was clearly outlined against the sky and the morning sun, which was just rising, made a gorgeous background for the mighty King of the Plains, for this was the lordly ruler of all the bison in the northwest country. By this I do not mean that his gov- ernment was anything very definite. He simply dominated all the smaller herds of which the larger herd was composed. His coat was much darker than his fellows, being a dark rich chestnut. In some 184 The King of the Thundering Herd lights, or when it was wet, it looked quite black. There seemed to be some dissension brew- ing among the bulls who thronged at the foot of the butte, for every few minutes one of their number would start to ascend as though to attack the King upon his throne. But his courage would soon forsake him and he would satisfy himself by pawing and bellowing. Finally there was one, more adventure- some than the rest, who charged to the top of the bluff, where for a few seconds he held his own. But he was soon discomfited and came ignominiously rushing back down the steep slopes of the butte, his flanks dripping blood, and limping badly in one of his hind legs. For half an hour Buck watched the manoeuvres of the rest of the bulls, his own battle spirit growing with each passing minute. The New King 185 Finally after the bull who had returned in such hot haste had gone, he crowded to the front and began slowly to ascend the hill, keeping his eyes fixed upon the King all the time, and occasionally pausing to paw and bellow, by which means he prob- ably was getting up his courage for the combat. The King eyed him belligerently through his cloud of dust but gave no sign that he saw him or considered him as a possible rival. He let Buck come to the very top of the butte and advance partly across the top and then he charged like the mighty moun- tain of fighting muscle and sinew that he was. Buck braced himself and met the King squarely and the shock of their great heads was terrible, but Buck did not give way. Instead he sank his hoofs deep in the soil and pushed, hooking this way and that, i86 The King of the Thundering Herd thinking to get by the King's guard and rip him in the side of the head ; but the King was an experienced fighter and he shifted his head each time to meet Buck's move- ments. Then Buck tried a new stratagem. He shifted his weight to one side and let the King push him back for several yards, thinking to get at the King's side in this manner, but nothing was gained, as they merely changed ground a little and neither had the advantage. For fifteen minutes like mighty giants they strode and the ground was ploughed deep by their hoofs. Sweat stood upon their flanks and foam dripped from their muzzles. Their breaths came in deep gasps like a blacksmith's bellows. Occa- sionally a deep grunt escaped from one or the other as the battle swayed. Buck re- ceived a bad wound in the jowl, and he in turn gashed the King in the cheek. ' THE SEASONED FIGHTER DROVE BUCK TO THE SIDE OF THE BUTTE The New King ^87 Blood was now added to the foam. It dripped from their long black beards and stained the ground, but neither of the great giants allowed his guard to be broken down, and in that was safety to each. Once the antagonist got by the broad head. Those sharp upcurved horns could do deadly work in the unprotected parts. It was to be a battle of endurance, a struggle for main strength and for breath. He who could still stand, when the other had become too weak to keep up the fight, would clearly be victor. Here Buck's many hard days' work at the plough stood him in good stead. He was not quite as heavy as the King, but more muscular. The minutes dragged on and neither had the advantage. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty went by and still they fought on. Finally by a mighty effort the seasoned fighter drove Buck close to a precipitate i88 The King of the Thundering Herd side of the butte. If he gave ten feet more he would be rolled over the side and go tumbling down to an ignominious defeat. Perhaps it was merely an accident, or maybe the King had played the trick be- fore. But Buck had now to hold his ground or go down to defeat. His breath came in deep gasps. He had been so long straining to his utmost pound of strength that his sight grew dim merely from the effort. Gradually he felt his strength waning. Inch by inch the King began forcing him back again. Two desperate stands he made of a few seconds each, but he was clearly weakening. His hour had nearly struck. At the very second when he seemed de- feated, his power to resist all but gone, there came from behind the heels of the strug- gling King a high-keyed bark that somehow had a familiar sound to the ears of Buck. He had heard that bark somewhere before, but he was too dazed to know just where. The Ne