Then, to my amazement, he dropped his gun, waved his hat in the air, and began talking to members of his suite in his native tongue, which I of course was totally unable to understand.

Old Buckskin Joe was standing behind the horse that I was riding, apparently quite as much astonished as I was at this singular conduct of a man he had accepted in good faith as a buffalo hunter.
There was no more hunting for the Grand Duke just then.

The pride of his achievement had paralyzed any further activity as a Nimrod in him.
Presently General Sheridan came riding up, and the ambulances were gathered round.

Soon corks were popping and champagne was flowing in honor of the Grand Duke Alexis and his first buffalo.
Many of the newspapers which printed accounts of the hunt said that I had shot the buffalo for the Grand Duke.

Others asserted that I held the buffalo while the Grand Duke shot him.