As I looked up the valley, I could see others dismounted, and many vast dark blotches on the gray.

Here and there, where the pursuers still hung on, blue smoke was cutting through the white.

Certainly we would have meat that day, enough and far more than enough.

The valley was full of carcasses, product of the wasteful white man's hunting.

Later I learned that old Mandy, riding a mule astride, had made the run and killed a buffalo with her own rifle! I found the great weight of the bull difficult to turn, but at length I hooked one horn into the ground, and laying hold of the lower hind leg, I actually turned the carcass on its back.