Smithy declared that nothing on earth could tempt him to try and descend that precipice where Step Hen had done it; and was amazed when Davy announced that they had accomplished a feat very nearly as hazardous; only, coming a yard at a time, they had not noticed the danger.
"I only hope nothing will run off with my sheep," Smithy had remarked, plaintively, at one time, after they had finished their meal, and were just lounging around, taking things easy.
"How about that, Toby?" asked Davy Jones; "will wolves be apt to rob Smithy of his hard-earned laurels?"
"Don't know anything about that ere," grinned the guide; "but if so be you mean will they come around, and eat his mutton, I'm afraid that's jest what'll happen. But," he added, as Smithy gave a plaintive little bleat, "they cain't eat them big horns, you know; and I reckons as how that's the main thing you wants, ain't it?"
"Oh! yes, if that is so, I shall stop worrying. But I surely do want to carry that souvenir back with me; because, you know that is my first game," Smithy went on to say.
"Wall," remarked the guide, with a nod, "you had ought to be proud of 'em; 'cause they ain't many fellers as kin say the fust wild game they ever knocked down was a big-horn. I've knowed old hunters as couldn't ever git one, try as hard as they might. We had a heap of luck to-day, let me tell you, boys, a heap of it. And for mutton, 'twan't so very tough, either."
"Oh! I thought I heard some one give a funny little cough just then!" exclaimed Step Hen, suddenly sitting up straight.
"You was correct at that," said the guide, quietly drawing his rifle closer to him, as though caution were second nature. "There is some parties accomin' down the canyon here, and headin' for our fire."
"The boys, mebbe!" exclaimed Davy Jones.
"No, I don't think they be," Toby Smathers added, straining his eyes to catch the first glimpse of the newcomers; for in this wild region, strangers are not to be always recognized as friends until they have proven themselves such.