A Mexican guide they nicknamed "Charley" offered to go along with the hunters. After all, he claimed he had seen white buffaloes.
The hunting party had not been gone long when Charley pointed to specks in the distance. "Buffaloes,"he said. "White Buffaloes."
The hunters spurred their horses forward. As they approached the animals they saw that Charley was right. Not all the herd was white, many of the animals were light-skinned. The problem was trying to catch them. The buffaloes thundered away as soon as they heard the horses. The hunters chased them all day but were never able to catch up. And had no better luck following day.
For days the hunters chased these mysterious beasts, but they never overtook them. At sunset on eighth day the weary group made camp. They moved slowly, their bones aching from hours of hard riding. The buffaloes had led them deep into the mountains
Suddenly one of the men noticed a geam in the rocks on the hillside. Could it be? He pried out a piece with his knife. It was gold!
A week later the men were back in Santa Fe telling their story to Beale. "So you never caught up with the buffaloes," said Beale, a little annoyed. "Buffaloes are nothing compared with what we stumbled on," said one of the hunters, holding out the piece of rock. "Take a good look at that, Tom. Gold ! And I tell you, the place is alive with it.