"Now begins the chase," said Ted. "We'll get out here where we will have
a good view, but I don't think you will care to see much of it. It gets
to be pretty--well, pretty raw after a while."
"Why don't they kill their beef in a slaughterhouse and give them the
meat, instead of turning the animals over to them alive?" asked Stella.
"The Indians wouldn't stand for that," answered Ted. "This is the only
sport they have in a year's time. You see, they are not permitted to
leave the reservations to go far away to hunt big game, and they take it
out in hunting, or playing they are hunting, these miserable cows."
"I don't see any fun in that," said Miss Croffut.
"You haven't the imagination of an Indian. You see, they make believe
they are hunting buffalo again, and the chase is quite as exciting to
them as if they were doing the real thing."
By this time the prairie was covered with steers and cows, lumbering
along in front of the Indians, who were pursuing them with shrill cries,
shooting at them with bows and arrows or with rifles, striving always to
wound them, but not to kill them too soon, for if they killed them right
away they would miss the fun of the chase.
This made the beef issue a carnival of brutality, and Ted soon saw that
the girls were getting tired of it.
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