at Benton, and though
the water was extremely low, we steamed down the channel of the
Missouri with but slight detention till we got within fifty miles of
Fort Buford. Here we struck on a sandbar with such force of steam
and current as to land us almost out of the water from stem to
midships. This bad luck was tantalizing, for to land on a bar when
your boat is under full headway down-stream in the Missouri River is
no trifling matter, especially if you want to make time, for the
rapid and turbid stream quickly depositing sand under the hull, makes
it commonly a task of several days to get your boat off again. As
from our mishap the loss of much time was inevitable, I sent a
messenger to Fort Buford for a small escort, and for horses to take
my party in to the post. Colonel Morrow, the commandant, came
himself to meet us, bringing a strong party of soldiers and some
friendly Indian scouts, because, he said, there were then in the
region around Buford so many treacherous band of Sioux as to make
things exceedingly unsafe.

Desiring to reach the post without spending more than one night on
the way, we abandoned our steamer that evening, and set off at an
early hour the next morning. We made camp at the end of the day's
march within ten miles of Buford, and arrived at the post without
having had any incident of moment, unless we may dignify as one a
battle with three grizzly bears, discovered by our friendly Indians
the morning of our second day's journey. While eating our breakfast
--a rather slim one, by the way--spread on a piece of canvas, the
Indians, whose bivouac was some distance off, began shouting
excitedly, "Bear! bear!" and started us all up in time to see, out on
the plain some hundreds of yards away, an enormous grizzly and two
almost full-grown cubs. Chances like this for a bear hunt seldom
offered, so there was hurried mounting--the horses being already
saddled--and a quick advance made on the game from many directions,
Lieutenant Townsend, of the escort, and five or six of the Indians
going with me. Alarmed by the commotion, bruin and her cubs turned
about, and with an awkward yet rapid gait headed for a deep ravine,
in which there was brushwood shelter.

My party rode directly across the prairie and struck the trail not
far behind the game. Then for a mile or more the chase was kept up,
but with such poor shooting because of the "buck fever" which had
seized most of us, that we failed to bring