angered me. He was much more admirable than
they, and yet they would not allow him to sleep in the house.

He rode all the way back to Fort Custer with us and when we parted I
said, "Wolf Voice, I hope we meet again," and I meant it. His spirit is
in all that I have since written of the red men. He, Two Moon, American
Horse, and Porcupine were of incalculable value to me in composing _The
Captain of the Gray Horse Troop_, which was based upon this little war.

From Billings we went almost directly to the Flat Head Reservation. We
had heard that a herd of buffalo was to be seen in its native pastures
just west of Flat Head Lake and as I put more value on seeing that herd
than upon any other "sight" in the state of Montana, we made it our next
objective.

Outfitting at Jocko we rode across the divide to the St. Ignacio
Mission. Less wild than the Cheyenne reservation the Flat Head country
was much more beautiful, and we were entirely happy in our camp beside
the rushing stream which came down from the Jocko Lakes.

"Yes, there is such a herd," the trader said. "It is owned by Michel
Pablo and consists of about two hundred, old and young. They can be
reached by riding straight north for some twenty miles and then turning
to the west. You will have to hunt them, however; they are not in a
corral. They are feeding just as they used to do. They come and go as
they happen to feel the need of food or water."

With these stimulating directions we set forth one morning to "hunt a
herd of buffalo," excited as a couple of boys, eager as hunters yet with
only the desire to see the wild kine.

After we left the road and turned westward our way led athwart low hills
and snake-like ravines and along deep-worn cattle paths leading to water
holes. All was magnificently primeval. No mark of plow or spade, no
planted stake or post assailed our eyes. We were deep in the land of the
bison at last.

Finally, as we topped a long, low swell, my brother shouted, "Buffalo!"
and looking where he pointed, I detected through the heated haze of the
midday plain, certain vague, unfamiliar forms which hinted at the
prehistoric past. They were not cows or horses, that was evident. Here
and there purple-black bodies loomed, while close beside them other
smaller objects gave off a singular and striking contrast. There was no
mistaking the character of these animals. They were bison.

To ride down upon them thus, in the silence and heat of that uni