a mile in front we could discern a little black speck
moving upon its surface. It could be nothing but a buffalo. Henry primed
his rifle afresh and galloped forward. To the left of the animal was a
low rocky mound, of which Henry availed himself in making his approach.
After a short time we heard the faint report of the rifle. The bull,
mortally wounded from a distance of nearly three hundred yards, ran
wildly round and round in a circle. Shaw and I then galloped forward,
and passing him as he ran, foaming with rage and pain, we discharged our
pistols into his side. Once or twice he rushed furiously upon us, but
his strength was rapidly exhausted. Down he fell on his knees. For one
instant he glared up at his enemies with burning eyes through his black
tangled mane, and then rolled over on his side. Though gaunt and thin,
he was larger and heavier than the largest ox. Foam and blood flew
together from his nostrils as he lay bellowing and pawing the ground,
tearing up grass and earth with his hoofs. His sides rose and fell
like a vast pair of bellows, the blood spouting up in jets from the
bullet-holes. Suddenly his glaring eyes became like a lifeless jelly.
He lay motionless on the ground. Henry stooped over him, and making an
incision with his knife, pronounced the meat too rank and tough for use;
so, disappointed in our hopes of an addition to our stock of provisions,
we rode away and left the carcass to the wolves.

In the afternoon we saw the mountains rising like a gigantic wall at
no great distance on our right. "Des sauvages! des sauvages!" exclaimed
Delorier, looking round with a frightened face, and pointing with
his whip toward the foot of the mountains. In fact, we could see at a
distance a number of little black specks, like horsemen in rapid
motion. Henry Chatillon, with Shaw and myself, galloped toward them
to reconnoiter, when to our amusement we saw the supposed Arapahoes
resolved into the black tops of some pine trees which grew along a
ravine. The summits of these pines, just visible above the verge of
the prairie, and seeming to move as we ourselves were advancing, looked
exactly like a line of horsemen.

We encamped among ravines and hollows, through which a little brook
was foaming angrily. Before sunrise in the morning the snow-covered
mountains were beautifully tinged with a delicate rose color. A noble
spectacle awaited us as we moved forward. Six or eight miles on our
right, Pike's Peak and hi