Identifier: beyondoldfrontie00grin (find matches)
Title: Beyond the old frontier : adventures of Indian-fighters, hunters, and fur-traders
Year: 1913 (1910s)
Authors: Grinnell, George Bird, 1849-1938
Subjects: Ross, Alexander, 1783-1856 Ruxton, George Frederick Augustus, 1820-1848 Garrard, Lewis Hector, 1829-1887 Palliser, John, 1807-1887 Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.) Indians of North America -- West (U.S.) Fur trade -- West (U.S.)
Publisher: New York : C. Scribner's Sons
Contributing Library: New York Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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foam, had escaped uninjured. It required all Joes nigger eloquence to persuadethe bull to leave the slain antagonist, over whom helong stood watching, evidently expecting him to get upagain to renew the combat, Joe all the time coaxinghim forward with, Him dear good bull, him go homenow, and do no more work to-day, which prospect,black Joe, in common with all his sable brethren, con-sidered as the acme of sublunary felicity. During this winter the people at Fort Union wereattacked by an epidemic which laid up many of them.Those who were not incapacitated by illness were,therefore, obliged to hunt the harder to supply the postwith food, for in that country and at that time foodmeant meat almost exclusively. Buffalo-running inwinter is often hard work, and when to the winterweather are added the difficulties of deep snow, thework becomes not only hard but dangerous. Some in-cidents of a winter run are given in Pallisers account $m> • asr,-; •.-•-•••:£ &vv/V•.*!/ ^-
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The Solitary Hunter 297 of his killing some meat four or five miles from the post.He had a splendid run, flooring a cow and wounding abull, which I left for the present, and then stretchingaway at full speed, I pursued after another uncom-monly fine fat cow. She gave me an awful chase,turning and doubling incessantly. My little horse wassorely at a disadvantage in the snow and began to showsymptoms of distress; but I could not manage to get abroadside shot. At last making one more push, I gotpretty close behind her and raising myself in my stir-rups fired down upon her. . . . She dropped at the re-port, the bullet breaking her spine. My little horse,unable to stop himself, rolled right over her, making acomplete somersault, and sending me, gun and all,flying clean over both of them into a snowdrift. Ileaped up, ran back to my horse, which I caught with-out much difficulty, and was glad to find no more hurtthan myself. My gun was filled with snow, of course,but otherwise uninjured. The

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