“I did.”
“Rest easy, then. They shot at a deer, or some game animal.”
“How do you know it?”
“I could tell by the way they yelled.”
“You’re thunderin’ smart, you think!”
Unnoting this insult, the scout tried to make an examination, to discover if Juniper Joe was much hurt.
“It’s jest my leg and right hip,” said the rascal; “feels like my leg is broke.”
“You couldn’t move it, if that was so.”
The fellow had been bruised by his heavy fall, and the breath had been jarred out of him, yet he was not hurt, otherwise.
“Oh, I think you’re all right!” the scout told him.