“I reckon not, capt’n,” replied the hunter, doggedly bringing down his piece. “We must eat, I s’pose. I see nothin’ but them about; an’ how are we goin’ to get them ’ithout shootin’?”
Seguin made no reply, except by pointing to the bow which El Sol was making ready.
“Eh-ho!” added the hunter; “yer right, capt’n. I asks pardon. I had forgot that piece o’ bone.”
The Coco took an arrow from the quiver, and tried the head with the assaying liquid. It proved to be a hunting-shaft; and, adjusting it to the string, he sent it through the body of a white wolf, killing it instantly. He took up the shaft again, and wiping the feather, shot another, and another, until the bodies of five or six of these animals lay stretched upon the ground.
“Kill a coyote when ye’re about it,” shouted one of the hunters; “gentlemen like we oughter have leastwise two courses to our dinner.”
The men laughed at this rough sally; and El Sol, smiling, again picked up the arrow, and sent it whizzing through the body of one of the coyotes.
“I think that will be enough for one meal, at all events,” said El Sol, recovering the arrow, and putting it back into the quiver.
“Ay!” replied the wit; “if we wants more we kin go back to the larder agin. It’s a kind o’ meat that eats better fresh, anyhow.”
“Well, it diz, hoss. Wagh! I’m in for a griskin o’ the white. Hyar goes!”
The hunters, laughing at the humour of their comrades, drew their shining knives, and set about skinning the wolves. The adroitness with which this operation was performed showed that it was by no means new to them.