“Cheer up, Giraffe!” he called out.
“Ain’t he dead, then?” cried the tall scout, forgetting to limp any longer as he started to hurry toward the spot.
“Oh! I guess he’s a goner, as far as that goes,” Thad went on to say; “but it isn’t a man after all, only a runt of a razorback pig!”
“Well, what d’ye think about that, now?” remarked Smithy, as they gathered about the dun-colored victim of Giraffe’s deadly shot; and which had evidently given its last kick, for it was stiffening out even then.
Giraffe was heard to draw several long breaths. He could not say a word at first, emotion so nearly overcame him; but then Thad was glad this had taken place, because he believed it might teach the impulsive one a much needed lesson. Already had Giraffe learned that he had a heart, which was not so callous as he made out. And he would hardly be apt to pull trigger so quickly at another time, when there seemed to be a good chance that it might be a fellow human being at whom his bullet, or load of shot, was to be sent.
“I thought I heard a grunting when I shot,” he finally admitted; “but there were all sorts of sounds breaking out around me. And then you fellows started to yelp like everything, so no wonder I got mixed up some. But see here, Thad, this porker belongs to somebody, don’t he?”
“He certainly must have, when he was alive,” answered the other, with a smile; “and if we can ever learn who his owner was, we’ll be only too glad to settle the bill with him. That may prove to be a dear snap shot you took, Giraffe; because of course the cracker will put a high valuation on his property. They always do when a train kills a cow on the track.”
“Well, it would be a shame to waste such juicy meat, wouldn’t it?” pursued the lanky scout, insinuatingly, as he made his jaws move in a way that carried out the idea of feasting.
“Don’t worry, it isn’t going to be wasted,” said Thad. “If we get the name we’re bound to have the game, too. So hang up your victim by the hind legs, Giraffe, and in the morning we’ll see that we get two fresh hams, some shoulders, and spare ribs in the bargain.”
“Yum! yum! how’s that for high? Nut-fed pork for me every time, fellows. Haven’t I read heaps about the same being so fine down in Old Virginia. Here, give me a hand, will you, Bumpus—no, never mind, one of the others will do as well. Smithy, you take hold, because you’re nearly as tall as I am; and we’ll tie the pig’s hind legs together, so he can hang nicely.”