After the bull was choked down, it was hogtied and loaded on a railway car with block and tackle. Of twenty-four bulls roped and tied down, only three survived. The rest died at various stages during the struggle; usually the noose damaged the thorax and suffocated the animal. The three survivors created a great deal of interest on their journey through the eastern cities.
During the late summer and fall the excursion trains ran at fairly regular intervals, stopping overnight at Ellsworth, Kansas, before going on to the end of the line. Trains did not travel at night through this country, for the Indians had learned that a log or two on the rails could derail the iron monster. On the daylight runs there was less danger. Each train carried twenty-five good rifles and an ample supply of ammunition for the crew, and most of the passengers were loaded down with guns.
West of Ellsworth buffalo could usually be found near the tracks, often galloping alongside the cars. Passengers were encouraged to shoot at them from the moving train, which rattled along at about fifteen miles an hour, a pace the buffalo could match for some distance. If one of the animals was downed, the train would stop to allow the passengers to harvest whatever portions of the animal they wanted, but most of the huge carcass was left as carrion. However, there is this interesting item from the local press: "On the down train the other day a buffalo was killed by the conductor, rolled upon a flat car, and taken to Ellsworth to feed the community."
Once the trains left Hays City, they could be in real trouble with the moving herds. Buffalo often had a powerful urge to dash in front of the engine, racing even more madly if the whistle tooted and the bell rang. The engineers soon learned not to drive into an animal on the tracks, for their engine would be derailed or overturned.
On the new Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe line along the Arkansas, trains were derailed twice in one week by buffalo, and the engineers were given orders to stop and let the herds go by when the situation looked dangerous. At times this meant a wait of several hours, but on at least one occasion waiting for the herd was not enough.
A train was trapped by a large herd moving across the tracks both to the front and to the rear. Suddenly the herd took fright and started to stampede in a solid mass right for the cars. The engineer blew the whistle, rang the bell, and let up clouds of steam, but to no avail. Passengers fired from the windows and the platforms, but the herd came on, piling up in a great mass against the cars. Some of them jammed their heads under the carriages, and three cars were overturned, with the buffalo still piling up against them until a few animals managed to scramble across the pile and the cars, leaving one of their number with its legs caught in a broken window.
In a year or so the buffalo became more wary of the trains and ranged farther from the right of way. Then the hunters were deposited at stations along the way where they could rent horses and guns for the chase. They usually preferred the new Winchester carbine, 44-caliber, a "saddle gun," for it could be carried in a scabbard. It held twelve shots in the magazine. Many an excited hunter rode up to a buffalo and pumped the whole dozen shots into the quarry, then had to stop and reload in order to finish the job, while the wounded animal stood there, braced and bleeding but unable to run.
The most glamorous sportsman among all the thousands shooting buffalo in the west was Grand Duke Alexis, son of the Russian tsar, a tall, handsome, young bachelor. General Philip Sheridan met the young prince at a White House dinner, and invited him to a buffalo hunt in Nebraska. Although it was midwinter, Alexis accepted at once, and off they went by rail to the North Platte, then south on horseback to the watershed of the Republican River.
The army supplied a military escort to ward off any possible Indian trouble, and a cavalry band to furnish music in camp. To add a colorful touch, sixty Sioux warriors and their families, led by Chief Spotted Tail, were invited to join the party. Tents, ambulances, a carriage, a light wagon, and a large herd of good riding horses were also furnished.
The hunt was staged on the high plains of southwestern Nebraska in the middle of January, but the young prince seemed untroubled by the weather, which was milder than that of a Russian winter. He rode out to the chase, and with the able assistance of Bill Cody he killed a fine bull with Lucretia Borgia, then returned to camp to a band concert and some entertainment by the Sioux. On the hunt the next day, the Sioux surprised the prince by downing a buffalo cow with a single arrow from what Alexis had considered a toy bow. The prince then bought the bow and a quiver of arrows to add to his imposing list of trophies.
After a few days visiting in the Colorado mining towns, Alexis asked for another hunt. This one was near Fort Wallace, and was equally successful. Then Alexis, loaded with trophies and gifts, boarded the train and rode east to a succession of gala receptions, and Bill Cody went back to scouting for the army.
Riders drive buffalo into pens where certain of the animals will be selected for slaughter. Now individuals may purchase live buffalo or carcasses from government stock and surplus animals from private herds. (U.S. Bureau of Sport Fisheries & Wildlife, photo by E. P. Haddon)
Once roaming North America in uncounted millions, buffalo now graze on pastures at the Montana Buffalo Preserve. By simulating conditions under which buffalo once lived, officials hope to maintain a truly wild herd in Yellowstone National Park. (Montana Historical Society, U.S. Fish & Wildlife photo)
21. The Last Stand of the Plains Tribes
The Indian treaties of 1865 brought an uneasy peace to the central plains, but north of the Platte troubles increased. Three big gold strikes in southwestern Montana set off new stampedes and the growth of new camps, Bannock, Virginia City, and Helena, all far from any of the established trails.
Two long, roundabout routes led to the new mines. The first was by steamboat 2,400 miles up the Missouri to Fort Benton, Montana, then overland another 170 miles to the nearest gold diggings, at Helena. The second route followed the old Oregon Trail to Fort Laramie, Wyoming, and on across the mountains to Fort Hall, on the Snake River in Idaho, then north another 200 miles across the desert and the continental divide, about 1,500 miles in all.
In 1865 an old mountain man, John Bozeman, blazed a shorter, easier trail, with better grass and water along the way. This trail branched off at Fort Laramie and went north to Powder River, around the northern end of the Bighorn Mountains, and on up the Yellowstone. It crossed into the upper Missouri Basin through Bozeman Pass, ninety miles short of Virginia City, 120 miles from Helena. But this new trial had one very serious drawback: it led through the heart of the Powder River and Tongue River basins, the prize buffalo country of the Sioux and their northern neighbors, the northern Cheyennes and the northern Arapahoes. In 1855 Sir St. George Gore on his western hunt had met with friendly treatment throughout the region. In 1866 travelers could expect serious trouble.
At a treaty council in 1865 Red Cloud, war chief of the Oglala Sioux, had threatened war if any attempt was made by the army to open a trail across their lands. He also insisted there must be no forts on the buffalo range. When his protests and threats were ignored, Red Cloud stormed out of the meeting. The commissioners later decided that they had pacified the Sioux after this episode by giving them a huge pile of presents, then on receiving reports of further Sioux threats, called another council with the chiefs at Fort Laramie in June 1866.
Early that summer, before the council convened, travelers along the trail reported trouble with the Indians along a stretch of 200 miles, and as soon as the council ended, the chiefs returned to their bands and reopened hostilities. But during the latter part of June, while the chiefs were at Fort Laramie, trains along the trail had no trouble. The travelers were nervous and on their guard when Indian bands approached their trains, only to find the visitors friendly. Here is the experience of one train, as told in letters by Ellen Gordon Fletcher, a bride on the traiclass="underline"