"Here he is," shouted Ned, who had run on ahead of the others in his anxiety to learn the result of his shot. "And I caught him on the wing, too, didn't I?"
"You certainly did."
"Just lift him. He's a whopper," went on the lad enthusiastically. "I'd like to see any of the others in this outfit make a shot like that——"
"Chance shot," mumbled Stacy. "Hit a bird once myself a mile up in the air, but I didn't flap my wings and crow about it. I couldn't have done it again. Neither could you have hit that—that—what do you call it!"
"Coyote," replied the guide, but he pronounced it "kiute."
"Oh, I don't know," grumbled Stacy.
"Suppose we go up the hill now and see what Master Stacy shot," suggested the guide, starting away.
"Shot?" sniffed Ned Rector. "Don't you know what he shot?"
"Yes, we know," interrupted Walter.
"He shot thin air, that's what he did."