“It does!”
“Far better!”
“Hooray!” vociferated several voices, amidst yells of laughter. No one dissented, as the hunters, pleased with the joke, were anxious to see it carried through.
Rube did not detain them long. Leaving his rifle in the hands of his friend Garey, he led the old mare up towards the spot that had been occupied by the Indian girl. Reaching this, he halted.
We all expected to see him turn the animal with her side towards us, thus leaving her body out of range. It soon became evident that this was not the old fellow’s intention. It would have spoiled the look of the thing, had he done so; and that idea was no doubt running in his mind.
Choosing a place where the ground chanced to be slightly hollowed out, he led the mustang forward, until her fore feet rested in the hollow. The tail was thus thrown above the body.
Having squared her hips to the camp, he whispered something at her head; and going round to the hind quarters, adjusted the pear upon the highest curve of the stump. He then came walking back.
Would the mare stand? No fear of that. She had been trained to stand in one place for a longer period than was now required of her.
The appearance which the old mare exhibited, nothing visible but her hind legs and buttocks, for the mules had stripped her tail of the hair, had by this time wound the spectators up to the risible point, and most of them were yelling.
“Stop yur giggle-goggle, wull yur!” said Rube, clutching his rifle, and taking his stand. The laughter was held in, no one wishing to disturb the shot.