“With a gun like that you only need one shot,” Thorsen said. “You could drop an elephant with one shot.” He opened a drawer of his desk and took out a handful of enormous cartridges. “See?”
Chris Hanson picked one up and hefted it in his palm. “It’s a small artillery shell.” He grinned at the boys. “You want to trade? I’d feel plenty safe facing Mr. Bear with this cannon.”
“No,” Jerry answered quickly. “If it was good enough for Buffalo Bill, it’s good enough for me.” He picked up one of the long rifles and balanced it on his shoulder. “Hup-two-three-four....” He staggered around the room. “Hey, doesn’t a weapons carrier come with this thing?”
The rancher smiled, showing two rows of strong, white teeth. “You are a very funny fellow,” he said. “Maybe the bear will die laughing.... Come, the horses are already saddled and waiting.”
Jerry’s face clouded over. “Horses?” he said.
“Yes, we may have to go ten or fifteen miles into the hills.” He led them out of the den, through the kitchen and out the back door.
The boys fell behind as they approached the stables. “Have you ever ridden a horse before?” Jerry whispered to Sandy.
“Sure, I’m a fair rider.” Realization suddenly dawned in his eyes. “You’ve ridden before—haven’t you?”
“Only on the merry-go-round,” Jerry said miserably. “But don’t say anything. I don’t want to spoil the party.”
“Well ...” Sandy was uncertain. “I suppose we’ll be walking the horses mostly, so you can’t get into too much trouble.”