It was midsummer and the weather was suffocatingly hot.

Fierce storms of wind and gusts of rain swept the country, while the bisons were everywhere.

They literally numbered hundreds of thousands, and, look in whatsoever direction the men chose, they were sure to see the huge creatures cropping the grass or lumbering across the prairie.
On the fourth day a band of three hundred mounted Indians suddenly appeared.

The chief proved to be an old acquaintance of Maxwell and showed genuine pleasure in meeting him.

They shook hands and the sachem conducted the little party to his village, where they received most hospitable treatment.
Resuming their journey, they encamped in a cottonwood grove in a chilly drizzling rain.