He had just communicated this opinion to Ike, and was about to turn away when his attention was attracted to the dog, now standing with his right paw raised, his tail extended and his whole form as rigid as if it had been cut in marble.
"See!" shouted Ike, "Maj is on de p'int! Whar, whar's de game?"
The words had scarcely passed his lips when there was a squeak and a rushing noise, and a score, or more, long-eared rabbits dashed by within twenty feet of the party.
"Hooraw! Rabbits! rabbits!" cried Ike. "Let us git our guns! Rabbits makes bully grub!"
Sam had not his gun with him, but he at once started back to the fire and examined his rifle, which had come through without being damaged.
The water had not affected the metallic cartridges, of which he had a good supply left. Filling his belt with these he started off, Ike keeping by his side with his remarkable old shot-gun on his shoulder, though its utter uselessness had been emphasized by its recent heavy rusting.
Ike was useful, however, in holding back the dog, who had evidently been feeding on rabbit since his landing at this place.
Sam was an excellent rifleman, having had much practice, and being possessed of nerves as true and steady as steel, without which the weapon can never be mastered.
He crept ahead, and about three hundred yards below the camp he came within sight of a little cove, or pocket, in the cañon wall that seemed literally to swarm with long-eared rabbits.
He fired with judgment, and kept firing while the creatures remained in sight and he was sure of his shots.