Thirty-One Years on the Plains and In the Mountains | Page 9

knew I had it when
I tried to draw a bead on that big gobbler. I had never shot at a living
thing, and when I leveled my rifle it was impossible to control my
nerves.
The turkey seemed to jump up and down, and appeared to me to be as
big as a pony, when I looked at him along the rifle. Two or three times
I tried to hold the bead on him, but could not. Now I wouldn't have
missed killing him for anything, in reason, for I feared that Uncle Kit
and Mr. Hughes would laugh at me.
At last, however, the sights of my gun steadied long enough for me to

pull the trigger, and to my great delight--and I may as well admit,
surprise--Mr. Gobbler tumbled over dead when I fired, and he was so
heavy as to be a good load for me to carry to camp.
Now I was filled with confidence in myself, and became eager for a
shot at bigger game; antelope, deer or buffalo.
In a few days we passed Ft. Scott and then we were entirely beyond the
bounds of civilization.
From that on, until we reached our destination, the only living things
we saw were jack-rabbits, prairie-dogs, antelope, deer, buffalo,
sage-hens and Indians, barring, of course, insects, reptiles and the like,
and the little owls that live with the prairie-dogs and sit upon the
mounds of the dog villages, eyeing affairs with seeming dignity and
wisdom.
The owls seem to turn their heads while watching you, their bodies
remaining stationary, until, it has been said, you may wring their heads
off by walking around them a few times. I would not have my young
friends believe, however, that this is true. It is only a very old joke of
the plains.
The first herd of buffalo we saw was along a stream known as Cow
Creek and which is a tributary to the Arkansas river. We could see the
herd feeding along the hills in the distance.
Here was good camping ground and it was time to halt for the night. So
as soon as we had decided on the spot to pitch camp, Uncle Kit directed
me to go and kill a buffalo, so that we might hgve fresh meat for
supper.
That suited me, exactly, for I was eager to get a shot at such big game.
Uncle Kit told me to follow up the ravine until opposite the herd and
then climb the hill, but to be careful and not let the buffalo see me.
I followed his instructions to the dot, for I had come to believe that

what Kit Carson said was law and gospel, and what he didn't know
would not fill a book as large as Ayer's Almanac. I was right, too, so far
as plainscraft was concerned.
Uncle Kit had also directed me to select a small buffalo to shoot at, and
to surely kill it, for we were out of meat.
It so happened that when I got to the top of the hill and in sight of the
herd again the first animal that seemed to present an advantageous shot
was a two-year-old heifer.
I dropped flat on the ground and crawled toward her, like a snake. Once
she raised her head, but the wind being in my favor, she did not discern
me, but put her head down and went on feeding. I succeeded in
crawling quite close enough to her, drew a bead on her and fired. At the
crack of the rifle she came to the ground, "as dead as a door-nail,"
much to the surprise of Uncle Kit and Mr. Hughes, who were watching
me from a distance.
When the animal fell, I threw my hat in the air and gave a yell that
would have done credit to an Apache warrior.
Uncle Kit and I dressed the buffalo and carried the meat into camp
while Mr. Hughes gathered wood for the night-fires.
I could scarcely sleep that night for thinking of my buffalo, and could I
have seen Henry Becket that night I would almost have stunned him
with my stories of frontier life.
The novice is ever enthusiastic.
The following morning we woke up early, and off, still heading up the
Arkansas river for Bent's Fort, and from here on the buffalo were
numerous, and we had that sort of fresh meat until we got good and
tired of it.
The second day out from Cow Creek, in the afternoon, we saw about
twenty Indians coming towards us. At the word, "Indians," I could feel

my hair raise on end, and many an Indian has tried to raise it since.
This was my first sight of the red man. He looked to me to