. My first buffalo hunt. Them Injuns Claim We Have No Right. Fer in the dark, I couldnt see,The one who had just spoke to me, But from his tones, I knowed quite well,Id better to lie down a spell. I felt thar, was but one choice— I did not recornize his voice,But when I shouted, Do not shoot! He recornized, this old Galoot. And then he rushed to me and said,Youre not a robber, but instead, My dear old friend. Our Captain Bang—Then this yer cave with gladness rang. 14 BUFFALO HUNT He kindly raised me to a seat, Knocked off the dirt, down to my feet, His arms around my neck, he flung,And like a
. My first buffalo hunt. Them Injuns Claim We Have No Right. Fer in the dark, I couldnt see,The one who had just spoke to me, But from his tones, I knowed quite well,Id better to lie down a spell. I felt thar, was but one choice— I did not recornize his voice,But when I shouted, Do not shoot! He recornized, this old Galoot. And then he rushed to me and said,Youre not a robber, but instead, My dear old friend. Our Captain Bang—Then this yer cave with gladness rang. 14 BUFFALO HUNT He kindly raised me to a seat, Knocked off the dirt, down to my feet, His arms around my neck, he flung,And like a lover thar he clung,. That Red Cloud is a Sly Old Fox Beggin my parding for his act, (Which would have been my death in fact,If Id not tumbled at his call, And throwed my gun against the wall.) BUFFALO HUNT IS His arms, then gently, I unclasped, With my right hand, his own I grasped, And said, my friend, youre not to blame,In your place, Id a done the same. With these surroundins, as they air,To enter here, would be a bair, To anyone, who this way wends, Unless I knowed, all war my friends. And then I said, Where is the boy?—Your pardner, out from eelinby?* Was he run over by the herd? And then my sight was kinder blurred. Caused by the thought, you might be crushed,In that wild storm, as on it rushed, I blamed myself, that you two boys,Had tried to outrun thatar noise. I should have told you what to do—To stay by me, Id see you through— Almost sure death, to one who runsIn a stampede ; stand by your guns, And if the mob bears down on you, The only thing fer you to do,To save yourself (upon my word)
Size: 1303px × 1917px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidmyfirstbuffalohu00arms
