One of the buffalo-hunters tried to get even by stealing the horses of a Cheyenne hunting party, and when pursued made for a cow camp, with, as a result, a long-range skirmish between the cowboys and the Cheyennes.

One of the latter was wounded; but this particular wounded man seemed to have more sense than the other participants in the chain of wrong-doing, and discriminated among the whites.

He came into our camp and had his wound dressed.
A year later I was at a desolate little mud road ranch on the Deadwood trail.

It was kept by a very capable and very forceful woman, with sound ideas of justice and abundantly well able to hold her own.

Her husband was a worthless devil, who finally got drunk on some whisky he obtained from an outfit of Missouri bull-whackers--that is, freighters, driving ox wagons.