_Omaha_
I went three times on the buffalo hunt. When I was there the first
time, I was small; therefore, I did not shoot the buffaloes. But I
used to take care of the pack horses for those who surrounded the
herd. When they surrounded the herd at the very first, I spoke of
shooting at the buffaloes. But my father said, "Perhaps the horse
might throw you suddenly, and then the buffalo might gore you." And I
was in a bad humor.
My father went with me to the hill. We sat and looked on them when
they attacked the buffaloes. And notwithstanding my father talked to
me, I continued there without talking to him. At length one man was
coming directly toward the tents in pursuit of a buffalo bull. And the
buffalo bull was savage. He attacked the man now and then.
"Come! Go thither," said my father. I tied a lariat on a large red
mare that was very tall. And taking a very light gun which my father
had, I went over there. When I arrived the buffalo bull was standing
motionless. The man said he was very glad that I had come. The buffalo
bull was savage. The man shot suddenly at him with a bow and wounded
him on the back. And then he attacked us. The horse on which I was
seated leaped very far four times, and had gone off, throwing me
suddenly. When the buffalo bull had come very close, he wheeled around
and departed. So I failed to shoot at him before he went. I reached
home just as my mother was scolding my father about me. When the horse
reached home with the bridle sticking to it, she knew that I had been
thrown. My father said nothing at all, but sat laughing. Addressing
me, he said, "Did you kill the buffalo bull?" And I did not speak.