“What, Daniel!” cried he. “Well met!”
“How are you, Colonel Henderson?” replied the backwoodsman. “I didn’t calculate on seeing you to-day.”
“I rode over for the express purpose of having a talk with you,” said Colonel Henderson. “I was at your house, but they told me you’d gone away early this morning to try for some game.”
The hunter glanced down at the buck across his saddle. There was a discontented frown upon his brow.
“Yes, gone since early morning,” he said. “And this is all I got. The hunting ain’t so good in the Yadkin country as it was once. As a boy I’ve stood in the door of my father’s cabin and brought down deer big enough to be this one’s granddaddy.”
The boy on the long-legged horse bounced up and down in his saddle at this; the nag felt his excitement and began to rear and plunge.
“Steady, boy, steady,” said Colonel Henderson. “Hold him in.”
“It’s all right, uncle,” replied the lad. “He don’t mean anything by it.” Then to the hunter, as his mount became quiet: “That was good shooting, Mr. Boone, wasn’t it? And,” pointing to the carcass of the buck, “so was that. Right behind the left shoulder; and it left hardly a mark on him.”
Daniel Boone smiled.
“I always treat my old rifle well,” said he, humorously. “And she never goes back on me.”