This is before the Mormons
opens their little game thar.
"'An' the snow falls to that extent, mebby it's six foot deep,' says
Texas. 'Bridger an' me makes snow-shoes an' goes slidin' an'
pesterin' 'round all fine enough. But the pore animals in the valley
gets a rough time.
"'It's a fact; Bridger an' me finds a drove of buffalos bogged down
in the snow,--I reckons now thar's twenty thousand of 'em,--and
never a buffalo can move a wheel or turn a kyard. Thar they be
planted in the snow, an' only can jest wag their y'ears an' bat
their eyes.
"'Well, to cut it brief, Bridger an' me goes projectin' 'round an'
cuts the throats of them twenty-thousand buffalo; which we-alls is
out for them robes a whole lot. Of course we don't skin 'em none
while they's stuck in the snow; but when the snow melts in the
spring, we capers forth an' peels off the hides like shuckin' peas.
They's froze stiff at the time, for the sun ain't got 'round to thaw
the beef none yet; an' so the meat's as good as the day we downs
'em.
"'An' that brings us to the cur'ous part. As fast as we-alls peels a
buffalo, we rolls his carcass down hill into Salt Lake, an' what do
you-alls reckons takes place? The water's that briny, it pickles
said buffalo-meat plumb through, an' every year after, when Bridger
an' me is back thar--we're trappin' an' huntin' them times,--all we
has to do is haul one of them twenty thousand pickled buffalos
ashore an' eat him.
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