. The border and the buffalo, an untold story of the southwest plains; the bloody border of Missouri and Kansas. The story of the slaughter of the buffalo. Westward among the big game and wild tribes. A story of mountain and plain . ofanity never escapedhis lips. He was not a professed Christian, but beUevedin the observance of the Golden Rule. He was a bompolitician, and would have been an excellent was a man of hopeful, optimistic tendencies; and whyshould he have been taken when such men as HurricaneBill, Dutch Henry, Squaw Johnny, and some others thatI had in mind could roam t
. The border and the buffalo, an untold story of the southwest plains; the bloody border of Missouri and Kansas. The story of the slaughter of the buffalo. Westward among the big game and wild tribes. A story of mountain and plain . ofanity never escapedhis lips. He was not a professed Christian, but beUevedin the observance of the Golden Rule. He was a bompolitician, and would have been an excellent was a man of hopeful, optimistic tendencies; and whyshould he have been taken when such men as HurricaneBill, Dutch Henry, Squaw Johnny, and some others thatI had in mind could roam these prairies, disregarding lawand morahty, with a price placed on some of their heads,as we hunters afterward learned? Then I thought of therations, blankets, and clothing of all kinds which theGovernment was issuing to these very Indians at FortSill, when they stayed on their reservations; then Ithought of the old map of Texas, this lone Star State,where was written across a great colored patch coveringthis very ground I was now riding over, Kiowa andComanche Hunting Grounds. Why did Texas ever concede that these were theirhunting grounds? Did these Indians know that thesegrounds were conceded to them for hunting purposes?. STORY OF THE SOUTHWEST PLAINS. 199 If SO, then the Comanche had some excuse. Then againI thought of what General Sheridan said, which everyold-time army officer with whom I talked sanctioned:Destroy the buffaloes and make a lasting peace, on thisscalp-lock, blood-stained border. Then I thought of the Boston man with liis sentimentalgush about Lo, the poor Indian! In my mind I wouldpilot liim out to that lonely spot, and watch him as hegazed on the mutilated remains of one of the noblestspecimens of American manhood between the two oceans;I would point out to him those two places, just in frontof and above the temples, where the bare skull was show-ing ; the places, too, where the two scalp-locks were takenfrom him, thus \iolating an unwritten law among the
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