“And once I could clip off a bird’s head at fifty paces. Well, I was lucky to hit ’em at all, for I can’t hold steady.”
The two grouse made scarcely a couple of mouthfuls, so much of the meat had been shot away. The next morning the horses had disappeared, leaving only the saddle bags. Reuben finally shouldered them.
“If we stay looking longer,” he said, “we’ll starve. I’ll tote these as far as I can, Peter; and you can tote ’em as far as you can. Between us we’ll manage, for the cap’n’s got to have his saddle bags.”
“You bet,” agreed Peter.
That was a journey! They struggled all day. The saddle bags, vowed Reuben, gasping, weighed a ton—and what a ton might be, Peter did not know, but at any rate it must be very heavy. Only toward late afternoon did they sight, below and ahead, the captain’s party, on the edge of a plain—the plain.
The party were moving briskly, as if encouraged. The captain was in advance. Reuben and Peter quickened at their best. Would they never overtake the other men?
“Smoke, ain’t it, yonder?” panted Reuben.
“Pierced Nose village, maybe, Reuben,” answered Peter.
“Don’t I see Joe, with that crowd? Yes, and a strange Injun, too!” panted Reuben.
They hastened, dragging their numb legs, and lugging those saddle bags. The party saw them, and halted; gave them a cheer.