Myths and Legends of the Great Plains — My First Buffalo Hunt - Omaha

(Comanche drawing on a buffalo shoulder blade) _The Indian chase is by arrow; the white man's by the lasso, gun, and spear.

The rivalry is indicated by half the buffalo being drawn as belonging to one race, half to the other.

The white men are supposed to be Spaniards.

The shoulder blade was found in the Comanche country, in Texas.

_] [Illustration: _Enlarged from a sketch in Report of the Bureau of Ethnology_] [Notes: CAPTURE OF A WANDERING BUFFALO (Indian drawing) _A buffalo has wandered near an Indian village, and is being captured.

The dotted lines indicate footprints.

One Indian, having secured the buffalo by his forefeet, tells his companion of his success--indicated by the line drawn from his mouth to its feet.

Another, having secured the buffalo by the horns, gives a companion a chance to kill it with an axe.

This he intends to do--indicated by the line from his mouth to its head, as well as by his attitude.

The Indian in the upper corner is told by his squaw to take an arrow and join in the capture.

He turns his head to inform her that he has an arrow--indicated by holding it up, and by the line from his mouth to her.

_] [Illustration: _Enlarged from a sketch in Report of the Bureau of Ethnology_] MY FIRST BUFFALO HUNT[G]

_Omaha_ I went three times on the buffalo hunt.

When I was there the first time, I was small; therefore, I did not shoot the buffaloes.

But I used to take care of the pack horses for those who surrounded the herd.

When they surrounded the herd at the very first, I spoke of shooting at the buffaloes.

But my father said, "Perhaps the horse might throw you suddenly, and then the buffalo might gore you."

And I was in a bad humor.

My father went with me to the hill.

We sat and looked on them when they attacked the buffaloes.

And notwithstanding my father talked to me, I continued there without talking to him.

At length one man was coming directly toward the tents in pursuit of a buffalo bull.

And the buffalo bull was savage.

He attacked the man now and then.

"Come!

Go thither," said my father.

I tied a lariat on a large red mare that was very tall.

And taking a very light gun which my father had, I went over there.

When I arrived the buffalo bull was standing motionless.

The man said he was very glad that I had come.

The buffalo bull was savage.

The man shot suddenly at him with a bow and wounded him on the back.

And then he attacked us.

The horse on which I was seated leaped very far four times, and had gone off, throwing me suddenly.

When the buffalo bull had come very close, he wheeled around and departed.

So I failed to shoot at him before he went.

I reached home just as my mother was scolding my father about me.

When the horse reached home with the bridle sticking to it, she knew that I had been thrown.

My father said nothing at all, but sat laughing.

Addressing me, he said, "Did you kill the buffalo bull?"

And I did not speak.

FOOTNOTE:

[G] The author, Frank La Flèche, an Omaha Indian, was about twelve years old when this occurred.

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