“What ye doin’ thar?” asked the guide.
“I have been getting the start of you,” replied Oscar.
“An ye’ve gone an’ skeered away them big-horns, an’ haint got nuthin’, nuther,” said Thompson.
“What’s the reason I haven’t?” shouted Oscar in reply. “I’ve got two sheep—and, I declare, I’ve got a wolf also,” he added, a moment later. “Two of them, and another big-horn, as I live!”
After the big-horns discovered his presence, Oscar had paid no attention whatever to the wolves.
He supposed that they had taken themselves safely off as soon as their enemies stopped pounding them; but just then he happened to cast his eye toward the battle-ground, and discovered, to his surprise, that the conflict had been more desperate than he had imagined.
One of the wolves lay motionless at the foot of the rocks, another was vainly endeavoring to crawl off on two legs, and one of the finest big-horns in the flock was straggling feebly near by.
A merciful bullet from Oscar’s rifle quickly put the wounded sheep out of its misery, and a second shot tumbled over the disabled wolf.
“What in creation are ye wastin’ so much powder fur, up thar?” cried the guide, who was working his way slowly up the side of the almost perpendicular bluff.
“I am not wasting it,” was the boy’s answer. “If you don’t believe it, come up and see for yourself.”