it was agreed that we should go into
the same herd at the same time and "make a run," as we called it, each
one killing as many as possible. A referee was to follow each of us on
horseback when we entered the herd, and count the buffaloes killed by
each man. The St. Louis excursionists, as well as the other spectators,
rode out to the vicinity of the hunting grounds in wagons and on
horseback, keeping well out of sight of the buffaloes, so as not to
frighten them, until the time came for us to dash into the herd; when
they were to come up as near as they pleased and witness the chase.

We were fortunate in the first run in getting good ground. Comstock was
mounted on one of his favorite horses, while I rode old Brigham. I felt
confident that I had the advantage of Comstock in two things--first, I
had the best buffalo horse that ever made a track; and second, I was
using what was known at that time as the needle-gun, a breech-loading
Springfield rifle--calibre 50,--it was my favorite old "Lucretia," which
has already been introduced to the notice of the reader; while Comstock
was armed with a Henry rifle, and although he could fire a few shots
quicker than I could, yet I was pretty certain that it did not carry
powder and lead enough to do execution equal to my calibre 50.

At last the time came to begin the match. Comstock and I dashed into a
herd, followed by the referees. The buffaloes separated; Comstock took
the left bunch and I the right. My great _forte_ in killing buffaloes
from horseback was to get them circling by riding my horse at the head of
the herd, shooting the leaders, thus crowding their followers to the
left, till they would finally circle round and round.

On this morning the buffaloes were very accommodating, and I soon had
them running in a beautiful circle, when I dropped them thick and fast,
until I had killed thirty-eight; which finished my run.

Comstock began shooting at the rear of the herd, which he was chasing,
and they kept straight on. He succeeded, however, in killing
twenty-three, but they were scattered over a distance of three miles,
while mine lay close together. I had "nursed" my buffaloes, as a
billiard-player does the balls when he makes a big run.

After the result of the first run had been duly announced, our St. Louis
excursion friends--who had approached to the place where we had
stopped--set out a lot of champagne, which they had brought with them,
and which proved a good