By the 12th of October the hunt had progressed up Sand Creek to its source, and westward across the High Divide to Calf Creek, where we found a hole of wretchedly bad water and went into permanent camp. We considered that the spot we selected would serve us as a key to the promising country that lay on three sides of it, and our surmise that the buffalo were in the habit of hiding in the heads of those great ravines around the High Divide soon proved to be correct. Our camp at the head of Calf Creek was about 20 miles east of the Musselshell River, 40 miles south of the Missouri, and about 135 miles from Miles City, as the trail ran. Four miles north of us, also on Calf Creek, was the line camp of the STV ranch, owned by Messrs. J. H. Conrad & Co., and 18 miles east, near the head of Sand Creek, was the line camp of the N-bar ranch, owned by Mr. Newman. At each of these camps there were generally from two to four cowboys. From all these gentlemen we received the utmost courtesy and hospitality on all occasions, and all the information in regard to buffalo which it was in their power to give. On many occasions they rendered us valuable assistance, which is hereby gratefully acknowledged.
We saw no buffalo, nor any signs of any, until October 13. On that day, while L. S. Russell was escorting our second load of freight across the High Divide, he discovered a band of seven buffaloes lying in the head of a deep ravine. He fired upon them, but killed none, and when they dashed away he gave chase and followed them 2 or 3 miles. Being mounted on a tired horse, which was unequal to the demands of the chase, he was finally distanced by the herd, which took a straight course and ran due south. As it was then nearly night, nothing further could be done that day except to prepare for a vigorous chase on the morrow. Everything was got in perfect readiness for an early start, and by daybreak the following morning the three cowboys and the writer were mounted on our best horses, and on our way through the bad lands to take up the trail of the seven buffaloes.
Shortly after sunrise we found the trail, not far from the head of Calf Creek, and followed it due south. We left the rugged butte region behind us, and entered a tract of country quite unlike anything we had found before. It was composed of a succession of rolling hills and deep hollows, smooth enough on the surface, to all appearances, but like a desert of sand-hills to traverse. The dry soil was loose and crumbly, like loose ashes or scoriæ, and the hoofs of our horses sank into it half-way to the fetlocks at every step. But there was another feature which was still worse. The whole surface of the ground was cracked and seamed with a perfect net-work of great cracks, into which our horses stepped every yard or so, and sank down still farther, with many a tiresome wrench of the joints. It was terrible ground to go over. To make it as bad as possible, a thick growth of sage-brush or else grease-wood was everywhere present for the horses to struggle through, and when it came to dragging a loaded wagon across that 12-mile stretch of “bad grounds” or “gumbo ground,” as it was called, it was killing work.
But in spite of the character of this ground, in one way it was a benefit to us. Owing to its looseness on the surface we were able to track the buffaloes through it with the greatest ease, whereas on any other ground in that country it would have been almost impossible. We followed the trail due south for about 20 miles, which brought us to the head of a small stream called Taylor Creek. Here the bad grounds ended, and in the grassy country which lay beyond, tracking was almost impossible. Just at noon we rode to a high point, and on scanning the hills and hollows with the binocular discovered the buffaloes lying at rest on the level top of a small butte 2 miles away. The original bunch of seven had been joined by an equal number.
We crept up to within 200 yards of the buffaloes, which was as close as we could go, fired a volley at them just as they lay, and did not even kill a calf! Instantly they sprang up and dashed away at astonishing speed, heading straight for the sheltering ravines around the High Divide.
We had a most exciting and likewise dangerous chase after the herd through a vast prairie-dog town, honey-combed with holes just right for a running horse to thrust a leg in up to the knee and snap it off like a pipe-stem, and across fearfully wide gullies that either had to be leaped or fallen into. McNaney killed a fine old bull and a beautiful two year old, or “spike” bull, out of this herd, while I managed to kill a cow and another large old bull, making four for that day, all told. This herd of fourteen head was the largest that we saw during the entire hunt.
Two days later, when we were on the spot with the wagon to skin our game and haul in the hides, four more buffaloes were discovered within 2 miles of us, and while I worked on one of the large bull skins to save it from spoiling, the cowboys went after the buffalo, and by a really brilliant exploit killed them all. The first one to fall was an old cow, which was killed at the beginning of the chase, the next was an old bull, who was brought down about 5 miles from the scene of the first attack, then 2 miles farther on a yearling calf was killed. The fourth buffalo, an immense old bull, was chased fully 12 miles before he was finally brought down.
The largest bull fell about 8 miles from our temporary camp, in the opposite direction from that in which our permanent camp lay, and at about 3 o’clock in the afternoon. There not being time enough in which to skin him completely and reach our rendezvous before dark, Messrs. McNaney and Boyd dressed the carcass to preserve the meat, partly skinned the legs, and came to camp.
As early as possible the next morning we drove to the carcass with the wagon, to prepare both skin and skeleton and haul them in. When we reached it we found that during the night a gang of Indians had robbed us of our hard-earned spoil. They had stolen the skin and all the eatable meat, broken up the leg-bones to get at the marrow, and even cut out the tongue. And to injury the skulking thieves had added insult. Through laziness they had left the head unskinned, but on one side of it they had smeared the hair with red war-paint, the other side they had daubed with yellow, and around the base of one horn they had tied a strip of red flannel as a signal of defiance. Of course they had left for parts unknown, and we never saw any signs of them afterward. The gang visited the LU-bar ranch a few days later, so we learned subsequently. It was then composed of eleven braves(!), who claimed to be Assinniboines, and were therefore believed to be Piegans, the most notorious horse and cattle thieves in the Northwest.
On October 22d Mr. Russell ran down in a fair chase a fine bull buffalo, and killed him in the rough country bordering the High Divide on the south. This was the ninth specimen. On the 26th we made an other trip with the wagon to the Buffalo Buttes, as, for the sake of convenience, we had named the group of buttes near which eight head had already been taken. While Mr. Brown and I were getting the wagon across the bad grounds, Messrs. McNaney and Boyd discovered a solitary bull buffalo feeding in a ravine within a quarter of a mile of our intended camping place, and the former stalked him and killed him at long range. The buffalo had all been attracted to that locality by some springs which lay between two groups of hills, and which was the only water within a radius of about 15 miles. In addition to water, the grass around the Buffalo Buttes was most excellent.
During all this time we shot antelope and coyotes whenever an opportunity offered, and preserved the skins and skeletons of the finest until we had obtained a very fine series of both. At this season the pelts of these animals were in the finest possible condition, the hair having attained its maximum length and density, and, being quite new, had lost none of its brightness of color, either by wear or the action of the weather. Along Sand Creek and all around the High Divide antelope were moderately plentiful (but really scarce in comparison with their former abundance), so much so that had we been inclined to slaughter we could have killed a hundred head or more, instead of the twenty that we shot as specimens and for their flesh. We have it to say that from first to last not an antelope was killed which was not made use of to the fullest extent.