. 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 . ceptedthem with allowance. But here were two of them faceto face with me. No gun, no knife. I was not had read of the effect fire had upon wolves, and, whetherit was true or not, resolved to give myself the benefit ofthe doubt. Accordingly, I prepared me two strong firebrands. Onewas about three and the other one four feet long. Iworked them partly out of
. 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 . ceptedthem with allowance. But here were two of them faceto face with me. No gun, no knife. I was not had read of the effect fire had upon wolves, and, whetherit was true or not, resolved to give myself the benefit ofthe doubt. Accordingly, I prepared me two strong firebrands. Onewas about three and the other one four feet long. Iworked them partly out of the fire, and by rolling theends in snow put out the fire to within about one foot ofthe end of each one; and in walking out of the gorge to themain draw I carried one in each hand, every once in awhile flirting them back and forth, to fan them so as tokeep the fire on them alive. The wolves did not followed me, nor did I really thinkthey would, yet, I had made such foolish moves for thepast two days that I did not wish to take chances on any-thing any more. Instead of keeping on down the valley as I had at firstintended to do, I crossed it and ascended the eastern slopeto the mesa or plateau, upon coming to the top of which. STORY OF THE SOUTHWEST PLAINS. /d I stopped and scanned the country over, hoping to see asmoke. For on these mornings when the landscape iscovered with snow and the air is frosty, smoke can be seena long way off. But nothing of the kind was visible. I continued on in a northeasterly direction, aiming tostrike the edge of the river-bottom again, and determinednow to stick to it when once there, unless I saw a sure-enough camp away from it. The real pangs of hungerhad left me, but weakness was creeping on. The oldelastic step was gone. The snow was five inches sun was shining so brightly that my eyes were burn-ing. Thanks to the wolves, I still had one of the charredsticks in my hands. I pinched off flakes of charcoalwith my finger-nails and blacken
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