LAST OF THE BUFFALO.
|REISINGER'S CREEK, Station No. 13,|
|Pike's Peak Express Co., May 31, 1859.|
I WOULD rather not bore the public with buffalo. I fully realize that the subject is not novel--that Irving, and Cooper, and many others, have written fully and admirably upon it; and that the traveler's enthusiastic recital falls coldly on the ear of the distant, critical, unsympathizing reader. Yet I insist on writing this once more on buffalo, promising then to drop the subject, as we pass out of the range of the buffalo before night. All day yesterday, they darkened the earth around us, often seeming to be drawn up like an army in battle array on the ridges and adown their slopes a mile or so south of us--often on the north as well. They are rather shy of the little screens of straggling timber on the creek-bottoms--doubtless from their sore experience of Indians lurking therein to discharge arrows at them as they went down to drink. If they feed in the grass of the narrow valleys and ravines, they are careful to have a part of the herd on the ridges which overlook them, and with them the surrounding country for miles. And, when an alarm is given, they all rush furiously off in the direction which the leaders presume that of safety.
This is what gives us such excellent opportunities for regarding them to the best advantage. They are mov-