His command had taken a high table-land whose sides were so steep that
not even a pack mule could make the descent, and he had been obliged to
retrace the trail for a great distance, losing three days while doing
so.
The incident of this particular camp we had selected was an exciting
turkey hunt. We found the trees along the river bank literally alive
with turkeys. After unsaddling the horses, two or three hundred
soldiers surrounded a grove of timber, and there was a grand turkey
round-up. Guns, clubs, and even stones were used as weapons. Of course,
after the hunt we had roast turkey, boiled turkey, fried turkey, and
turkey on toast for our fare, and in honor of the birds which had
provided this treat we named the place Camp Turkey.
When we left camp we had an easy trail for several days. Penrose had
taken a southerly direction toward the Canadian River. No Indians were
to be seen, nor did we find any signs of them.
One day, while riding in advance of the command down San Francisco
Creek, I heard some one calling my name from a little bunch of willow
brush on the opposite bank of the stream. Looking closely at the spot,
I saw a colored soldier.
"Sakes alive, Massa Bill, am dat you?" shouted the man, whom I
recognized as a member of the Tenth Cavalry.
"Come out o' heah," I heard him call to someone behind him. "Heah's
Massa Buffalo Bill.
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