He came to in a little, an' the first thing
he said was, 'Where's my revolver?' When I gave it to him he looked
at it, an' said with a solemcholy shake o' the head, 'There's a whole
barrel-full lost!' It turned out that he had taken to usin' the
barrels for bottles to hold things in, but he forgot to draw the
charges, so sure enough I had fired a charge o' bum-bees an' beetles
an' small shot into the buffalo!
"But that's not what I wos goin' to tell ye yit. We corned to a part
o' the plains where we wos well-nigh starved for want o' game, an' the
natter-list got so thin that ye could a'most see through him, so I
offered to kill my horse, an' cut it up for meat; but you niver saw
sich a face he made. 'I'd rather die first,' says he, 'than eat it;'
so we didn't kill it. But that very day Martin got a shot at a wild
horse an' killed it. The natter-list was down in the bed o' a creek at
the time gropin' for creepers, an' he didn't see it.
"'He'll niver eat it,' says Martin.
"'That's true,' says I.
"'Let's tell him it's a buffalo,' says he.
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