Summary

Portrait of George Bird Grinnell George Bird Grinnell Beyond the Old Frontier: Adventures of Indian-Fighters…

I sat flat on the ground, my rifle resting on the spoke of a wagon-wheel—firing as often as an Indian came within range—and, when the painted, warwhooping target vamosed for safer quarters, at the crack of the gun, certainly no other than a smile of satisfaction lit up my face. If none fell outright, it was not that any qualms of conscience prevented my taking cool and sure aim, at those who, after chasing a mile, and nearly scaring the life out of us, were then keeping us penned in the hot sun without water.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of George Bird Grinnell George Bird Grinnell Beyond the Old Frontier: Adventures of Indian-Fighters…

Indians! Indians! from the camp reached those nearest the muleguard, and by them it was repeated and wafted on to us, who, hardly knowing whether to cache in the undergrowth, or to run for camp, stood for a moment undecided, and then ‘streaked it’ for the wagons. Turning our eyes to the furthest train on the hill, we perceived it in great commotion. Fifty Indians were charging among them with their lances, recoiling from the light volumes of smoke at times, and again swallowing up the little force with their numbers and shutting them in from our sight. Others were stampeding the oxen.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of George Bird Grinnell George Bird Grinnell Beyond the Old Frontier: Adventures of Indian-Fighters…

It is a most painful sight to witness the dying struggles of the huge beast. The buffalo invariably evinces the greatest repugnance to lie down when mortally wounded, apparently conscious that, when once touching mother earth, there is no hope left him. A bull, shot through the heart or lungs, with blood streaming from his mouth, and protruding tongue, his eyes rolling, bloodshot, and glazed with death, braces himself on his legs, swaying from side to side, stamps impatiently at his growing weakness, or lifts his rugged and matted head and helplessly bellows out his conscious impotence.
Source: Gutenberg

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