“No use, Sid; come on.”
The boys clambered down the rocks and trudged through the sand to their camping-place, Raymond grumbling as they went.
“Tough luck, I say, not to see hide or hair of a rabbit, hungry as we are.”
They reached the little ravine, and there, just inside the entrance, sat a big gray rabbit!
Raymond threw up his revolver, and bringing it down, fired as it came to a level. It was done in an instant, without apparent preparation, and yet there on the sand with the greater part of its head missing, lay the rabbit.
“You are certainly a crackerjack with the gun, Ray,” exclaimed Sidney admiringly. “If I had tried that I should have blown the rabbit all to pieces, or else missed him entirely.”
“It all depends on believing you’re going to hit. And don’t hesitate; fire as soon as you see your game through the sight.”
“But you don’t sight at all, you just fire regardless.”
Raymond laughed. “Well, I guess it’s instinct.”
While Raymond was dressing the game Sidney gathered an armful of bits of wood and brush, and carrying the fuel up into the little ravine, he built a fire in an angle where it could not be seen from the cañon. He fed the blaze until, by the time Raymond had the rabbit cleaned and quartered, there was a thick bed of coals. Then the boys sharpened sticks and holding the pieces of meat over the coals roasted them beautifully.