The majority of the hunters mounted and rode southwest early in the morning. Seven men in one party sighted a herd of buffaloes numbering about 200, and dismounting, when within a mile, cached their horses in a coulee, and began a cautious advance.
They found a deep and crooked ravine into which they crawled, and in which they were able to approach to within about 400 yards of the nearest animals. A gentle breeze blew from the game toward the hunters, and taking advantage of the most favorable point, they crawled up the steep bank to where they could command a good view of the game. The "tenderfeet" in the party were in favor of firing a volley, but an old hunter who had led them advised them to fire singly, and at intervals of a minute or two, this plan being much less likely to frighten the game. He cautioned them to take very careful aim, to make every shot count, and to wound as few animals as possible. One slightly wounded animal, he said, would create more uneasiness among the herd than ten dead or fatally wounded ones.
Several of this party were good marksmen, and had good strong-shooting, long-range rifles. Though, they shot heavy charges, yet, the wind in their favor, at this long distance, the animals would scarcely hear the reports. The leader advised them to shoot only at animals broadside, and gave them careful directions as to elevation and where to aim. Evans opened the fire with a sixteen-pound 50-calibre Sharp's. Immediately after the report the emphatic "thud" of the bullet came back and a large cow was seen to drop on her knees, get up again, stagger away a few rods and lie down.
"Good," said the old hunter. "Now, Pete, you go."
"Pete fired, and an old bull whisked his tail, walked sullenly away, turned around a few times, and fell dead. Another complimentary remark from the old hunter, and then he said:
He fired, but to his great chagrin did just what he had cautioned the others not to do, broke a fore leg below the knee. This cow commenced to bellow and "buck," and in an instant the whole herd was in commotion.
"Stop her, somebody, stop her, or she'll stampede the hull bizness!" he said, as he pushed another bullet into his muzzle loader. By this time she had stopped broadside, for a moment, at the edge of the herd, and the journalist, at the order of the boss, drew a bead on her. The "spat" of the heavy bullet told of a palpable "hit". She no longer felt like running, but was not yet down and it took two more bullets to lay her out. The next shot was a clean miss, so far as it concerned the animal shot at, but it wounded one somewhere in the herd. Then there was more commotion and it was evident the "stand" was at an end.