se close to the buffaloes, and not to shoot till I
gave him the word. At the same time I gave Buckskin Joe a cut with my
whip which sent him at a furious gallop to within ten feet of one of
the biggest bulls in the herd.

"Now is your time," I shouted to Alexis. He fired, and down went the
buffalo. Then, to my amazement, he dropped his gun, waved his hat in
the air, and began talking to members of his suite in his native
tongue, which I of course was totally unable to understand. Old
Buckskin Joe was standing behind the horse that I was riding,
apparently quite as much astonished as I was at this singular conduct
of a man he had accepted in good faith as a buffalo hunter.

There was no more hunting for the Grand Duke just then. The pride of
his achievement had paralyzed any further activity as a Nimrod in him.
Presently General Sheridan came riding up, and the ambulances were
gathered round. Soon corks were popping and champagne was flowing in
honor of the Grand Duke Alexis and his first buffalo.

Many of the newspapers which printed accounts of the hunt said that I
had shot the buffalo for the Grand Duke. Others asserted that I held
the buffalo while the Grand Duke shot him. But the facts are just as I
have related them.

It was evident to all of us that there could be little more sport for
that day. At the request of General Sheridan I guided the Russians back
to camp. Several of the others in the party decided to indulge in a
little hunt on their own account, and presently we saw them galloping
madly over the prairie in all directions, with terrified buffaloes
flying before them.

As we were crossing a stream on our way back to camp we ran into a
small band that had been frightened by some of these hunters. They came
sweeping across our path, not more than thirty feet away, and as they
passed Alexis raised his pistol and fired generally into the herd. A
buffalo cow fell.

It was either an extraordinary shot or a "scratch," probably the
latter. The Duke was as much astonished as any of us at the result, but
we gave him three rousing cheers, and when the ambulance came up we had
a second round of champagne in honor of the prowess of our
distinguished fellow hunter. I began to hope that he would keep right
on killing buffaloes all the afternoon, for it was apparent that every
time he dropped an animal a basket of champagne was to be opened. And
in those days on the Plains champagne was not a drink that could be