The more rapidly the buffalo came on, the faster the man ran--and
sometimes it was a hard matter for him to keep ahead of the
herd--until he had got far within the wings and near to the cliff.
If there seemed danger that he would be overtaken, he watched his
chance and either at some low place quickly dodged out of the line
in which the buffalo were running, or hid behind one of the piles of
stones of which the wings were formed, or, if he had time, slipped
over the rocky wall at the valley's edge, so as to get out of the
way of the approaching herd.
As soon as the buffalo had come well within the diverging lines of
people who were hidden behind the piles of stones called wings,
those whom the buffalo passed rose up from their places of
concealment, and by yells and shouts and the waving of their robes
frightened the buffalo, so that they quite forgot their curiosity in
the terror that now replaced it. When the leaders reached the brink
of the cliff, they could not stop. They were pushed over by those
behind, and most of the buffalo jumped over the cliff. Many were
crippled or injured by the fall, and all were kept within the fence
of the piskun below. About this fence the people were collected. The
buffalo raced round and round within the pen, the young and weak
being injured or killed in the crowding, while above the fence men
were shooting them with arrows until presently all in the pen were
dead, or so hurt that the women could go into the pen and kill them.
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