e and joined him. The Indian only laughed when Bucks tried to
thank him. "It is nothing," he said, "you are getting experience. Only
don't tackle that man again till you give me notice beforehand."

The next morning Bucks installed himself at Goose Creek.

Goose Creek was a mere operating point and besides the rough wooden
station, with an attic sleeping-room for the operator, boasted only a
house for the section crew--six men taken care of by a China boy cook.
East of the station stood an old road ranch belonging to Leon
Sublette. For this, freight was at times unloaded and an Indian trail
to the south led through the sand-hills as far as the Arickaree
country. North of the river greater sand-hills stretched as far as the
eye could reach. The long, marshy stretches of the Nebraska River lost
themselves on the eastern and the western horizon and at times clouds
of wild fowl obscured the sun in their flight across the sky.

Dancing came down to the new station to complete the instalment of the
instruments and this broke for a day or two the loneliness of the new
surroundings. Indeed, there was hardly time to be lonely. The constant
round of interest attending the arrival of trains with their long
halts, visits from trappers living at the ranch who were always ready
to talk, and occasional calls from friendly Pawnees from the south,
together with abundance of time for hunting the geese and ducks, made
the days go.

But one early summer morning Bucks woke to an adventure not upon his
daily programme. He walked downstairs after dressing, and as he
stepped out on the platform the sand-hills touched by the rising sun
shone in the northwest like mountains of gold. Looking at them he saw
to his surprise they were covered with black objects that appeared to
be moving.

Indians were first in his mind, and in his alarm he ran all the way to
the section-house where the foreman, after a hasty study of the hills,
explained that the suspicious-looking objects were buffaloes.

This information only added to Bucks's excitement. The China boy cook,
Lee Ong, at the section-house appeared equally stirred at the
situation and, after running in and out of the kitchen with much
fluttering of cue and clattering of wooden shoes, promised Bucks a
buffalo steak for dinner if he would bring in a hindquarter.

By the time Bucks had finished breakfast the whole country to the
north was black with buffaloes. For hours they poured over the divi