that we did, and thinking that it would not be
healthy for them to remain much longer in that vicinity, they mounted
their horses and disappeared down the canons of the creek. When the
soldiers came up we had the satisfaction of showing them five "_good_"
Indians, that is dead ones.

Two hours later we pulled into camp with our load of meat, which was
found to be all right, except that it had a few bullets and arrows
sticking in it.

While I was hunting for the Kansas Pacific railway, I had the pleasure,
in the fall of 1867, of meeting the celebrated Kit Carson, one of, if not
the oldest and most noted scout, guide, and hunter that our western
country has ever produced. He was on his way to Washington. I also met
him on his return from the East, and invited him to be my guest for a few
days at Hays City, which invitation he accepted. He then proceeded to
Fort Lyon, Colorado, near which place his son-in-law, Mr. Boggs, and
family, resided. At this time his health was failing, and shortly
afterwards he died at Mr. Boggs' residence on the Picket Wire Creek.

[Illustration: KIT CARSON]

CHAPTER XV.

CHAMPION BUFFALO KILLER.

Shortly after the adventures mentioned in the preceding chapter, I had my
celebrated buffalo hunt with Billy Comstock, a noted scout, guide and
interpreter, who was then chief of scouts at Fort Wallace, Kansas.
Comstock had the reputation, for a long time, of being a most successful
buffalo hunter, and the officers in particular, who had seen him kill
buffaloes, were very desirous of backing him in a match against me. It
was accordingly arranged that I should shoot him a buffalo-killing match,
and the preliminaries were easily and satisfactorily agreed upon. We were
to hunt one day of eight hours, beginning at eight o'clock in the
morning, and closing at four o'clock in the afternoon. The wager was five
hundred dollars a side, and the man who should kill the greater number of
buffaloes from on horseback was to be declared the winner.

The hunt took place about twenty miles east of Sheridan, and as it had
been pretty well advertised and noised abroad, a large crowd witnessed
the interesting and exciting scene. An excursion party, mostly from St.
Louis, consisting of about a hundred gentlemen and ladies, came out on a
special train to view the sport, and among the number was my wife, with
little baby Arta, who had come to remain with me for a while.

The buffaloes were quite plenty, and