as they moved.  I soon began to hear at a distance on the left the sharp reports of a rifle, again and again repeated; and not long after, dull and heavy sounds succeeded, which I recognized as the familiar voice of Shaw’s double-barreled gun.  When Henry’s rifle was at work there was always meat to be brought in.  I went back across the river for a horse, and returning, reached the spot where the hunters were standing.  The buffalo were visible on the distant prairie.  The living had retreated from the ground, but ten or twelve carcasses were scattered in various directions.  Henry, knife in hand, was stooping over a dead cow, cutting away the best and fattest of the meat.

When Shaw left me he had walked down for some distance under the river bank to find another bull.  At length he saw the plains covered with the host of buffalo, and soon after heard the crack of Henry’s rifle.  Ascending the bank, he crawled through the grass, which for a rod or two from the river was very high and rank.  He had not crawled far before to his astonishment he saw Henry standing erect upon the prairie, almost surrounded by the buffalo.  Henry was in his appropriate element.  Nelson, on the deck of the Victory, hardly felt a prouder sense of mastery than he.  Quite unconscious that any one was looking at him, he stood at the full height of his tall, strong figure, one hand resting upon his side, and the other arm leaning carelessly on the muzzle of his rifle.  His eyes were ranging over the singular assemblage around him.  Now and then he would select such a cow as suited him, level his rifle, and shoot her dead; then quietly reloading, he would resume his former position.  The buffalo seemed no more to regard his presence than if he were one of themselves; the bulls were bellowing and butting at each other, or else rolling about in the dust.  A group of buffalo would gather about the carcass of a dead cow, snuffing at her wounds; and sometimes they would come behind those that had not yet fallen, and endeavor to push them from the spot.  Now and then some old bull would face toward Henry with an air of stupid amazement, but none seemed inclined to attack or fly from him.  For some time Shaw lay among the grass, looking in surprise at this extraordinary sight; at length he crawled cautiously forward, and spoke in a low voice to Henry, who told him to rise and come on.  Still the buffalo showed no sign of fear; they remained gathered about their dead companions.  Henry had already killed as many cows as we wanted for use, and Shaw, kneeling behind one of the carcasses, shot five bulls before the rest thought it necessary to disperse.