“Why did you give the word to stop firing?” said Alec.
“Because,” answered the Indian, “we have killed as many as our people can eat before the meat will spoil, and we must not kill the deer if we do not need the meat. The Great Spirit gives us these things for food. We must not make him angry by killing more than we need of such animals.”
Well done, red man! Would that some white hunters, when bent on the wholesale destruction of valuable animals just for the mad ambition to kill, had some of his wisdom and religion!
The deer were bled, and, when the entrails were removed, they were placed where they could be found next day by those who would come for them. The Indian cut out a splendid haunch, which he strapped on his back, then the return trip was begun, and the camp was reached in the small hours of the next morning. Very tired but very proud was Alec as he strode with his Indian companion into the camp. The fire was burning low, for all the rest of the party were sound asleep, and it looked as though they had been so for hours. Alec, who had been so successful, was anxious to hear how it had fared with Frank, who had started off with another Indian after the other herd that had been sighted.
However, he was too tired and sleepy to say much then, and so Alec did not trouble him. Alec enjoyed the hastily prepared supper, for which he had a glorious appetite, after such a long, heavy day’s exciting sport. Then he rolled his blanket around him and cuddled between Sam and Frank, and was soon wrapped in dreamless slumber.
The chief and favourite part of the breakfast the next morning was the broiled steaks of that famous haunch of venison which Alec’s comrade had brought back to the camp.
