they fought, and were victorious, —every bullet discharged killing an enemy.
This victory was so signal and complete, that the superstitious warriors attributed it solely to the medicine-doings of the yellow balls, —three or four of which were finally buried with the chief at his death. The only white man permitted to see them, describes them as having been precisely the color of brass, —very soft
and heavy. Admitting that the story is true,54 there are doubtless very rich mines of gold in this vicinity, that being the only metal assimilating brass in color.
Previous to our leaving Beaver creek, an incident occurred showing the remarkable tenacity of life peculiar to buffalo.
An old bull appeared in the distance, travelling at a rapid rate almost directly towards camp. Being in want of a re-supply of fresh meat, I seized my rifle and advanced to intercept him. Owing to the unfavorable state of the wind, I was forced to make so long a shot that the ball fell some two feet below the mark, and struck near the knee-joint of the fore leg, shivering it to pieces.
Still, however, the animal kept on, with scarcely diminished speed, and held me a chase of three miles or more before I could overtake him to finish the work. At length he was dispatched; but, on butchering him, I was surprised to find a third bullet-wound, apparently three or four days old. The ball was full one-half the size of my own, and, incredible as it may seem, had penetrated the butt of the buffalo's heart.
I could scarcely believe my own eyes, —yet such was the fact. The creature had survived a heart-shot for days, and then, with a broken leg, had held me a chase of three miles.
Our final adventure at this camp, was with a party of Indians. Having discovered the latter, early one morning, and supposing them Pawnees, we prepared for an encounter. The objects of our apprehension, mistaking us for the same, continued maneuvering upon the adjoining hills the entire day, in such a manner as to lead us to conclude the whole country was filled with Indians.
Toward sundown, after vainly endeavoring to procure an attendant, I armed myself and proceeded alone to the spot where they had been last seen, determined to discover, if possible, the nature and extent of the danger that awaited us. Here, a single warrior advanced to meet me, giving signs of friendship and of his nation. In answer to the inquiry, why his party had acted so strangely, he said they had thought us enemies, and were afraid.
He accompanied me to camp, and, soon after his companions came up, but, instead of the powerful war-party of Pawnees awaiting to slaughter us by night, as our imaginations had depicted, and their cunning movements led us to infer, they proved but three Arapaho warriors, three squaws
