, and the smaller beasts were
in consequence but little molested.

Once my brother shot five antelopes from a single stand, when the party
were short of fresh venison; he was out of sight and to leeward, and the
antelopes seemed confused rather than alarmed at the rifle-reports and
the fall of their companions. As was to be expected where game was so
plenty, wolves and coyotes also abounded. At night they surrounded the
camp, wailing and howling in a kind of shrieking chorus throughout the
hours of darkness; one night they came up so close that the frightened
horses had to be hobbled and guarded. On another occasion a large wolf
actually crept into camp, where he was seized by the dogs, and the
yelling, writhing knot of combatants rolled over one of the sleepers;
finally, the long-toothed prowler managed to shake himself loose, and
vanished in the gloom. One evening they were almost as much startled
by a visit of a different kind. They were just finishing supper when an
Indian stalked suddenly and silently out of the surrounding darkness,
squatted down in the circle of firelight, remarked gravely, "Me Tonk,"
and began helping himself from the stew. He belonged to the friendly
tribe of Tonkaways, so his hosts speedily recovered their equanimity;
as for him, he had never lost his, and he sat eating by the fire
until there was literally nothing left to eat. The panic caused by his
appearance was natural; for at that time the Comanches were a scourge to
the Buffalo-hunters, ambushing them and raiding their camps; and several
bloody fights had taken place.

Their camp had been pitched near a deep pool or water-hole. On both
sides the bluffs rose like walls, and where they had crumbled and lost
their sheerness, the vast buffalo herds, passing and repassing for
countless generations, had worn furrowed trails so deep that the backs
of the beasts were but little above the surrounding soil. In the
bottom, and in places along the crests of the cliffs that hemmed in
the canyon-like valley, there were groves of tangled trees, tenanted by
great flocks of wild turkeys. Once my brother made two really remarkable
shots at a pair of these great birds. It was at dusk, and they were
flying directly overhead from one cliff to the other. He had in his hand
a thirty-eight calibre Ballard rifle, and, as the gobblers winged their
way heavily by, he brought both down with two successive bullets. This
was of course mainly a piece of mere luck; b