In the afternoon we started out afoot to kill some fresh meat for our mess, the Irishman going up the creek in search of antelope or deer while I walked down to the slough to see if there were any water-fowl there to be picked up. I killed a sand-hill crane and returned to camp. Jack had done better than I, having killed a large deer and come back and taken Prince out to carry the meat in. Tom had outdone us both, having killed four antelope without leaving camp.
"How in the world did you do it, Tom?" I asked as I come to where he was busy skinning and dressing four dead antelope that he had strung up.
"Well, sir, I'll tell you how it was," replied he with a gratified smile, still plying his butcher-knife. "Soon after you men left camp a bunch of antelope come playing 'round on the prairie out yonder, up the ravine a piece, but, as they wouldn't come quite close enough to suit me, I got out a red blanket, tied it to a little pole, an' crept along up the ravine till I got about opposite to 'em, an' then raised the red blanket above the bank an' planted the pole.
"Soon as they sighted the strange red thing they raised their heads an' stared at it a bit, an' then come up toward it, all in a bunch, an' stopped an' took another look. Then they seemed to get frightened an' turned an' run away, but I knew they'd come back. They circled 'round an' come up again an' halted for another look, an' then run away again an' circled 'round an' come back, an' each time they came a little closer.
"I noticed that when they'd halt to gaze at the blanket they'd line up four or five abreast; so the idea struck me that if I could get back into another little ravine that was close by, an' crawl up that a little ways, so as to take 'em in flank when they'd line up thataway, I'd get two or three of 'em. I did that, an' the next time they halted an' lined up there were four of 'em in range, with their sides to me, an' I turned loose an' killed three of 'em an' wounded the fourth so that I got him next shot."
"You did a good job, and did it well, too," I replied. Just then Jack came up with his load of deer meat. "Why, Jack," I began, "how in the world did you happen to kill a buck? I didn't think you were hunter enough to stalk a deer."
"You don't appear to know me, young fellow," he returned with a swaggering air. "It's a mighty hunter I'm getting to be, as well as a famous trapper."
"But tell us all about how you got that buck; I know there's something to explain about it," I replied.
"Well, now," laying aside his assumed braggadocio and becoming the candid Irishman again, "to tell you the honest God's truth, I just blundered onto him. It was this way: I was a-sneaking along through the timber when all of a suddent I sees this laddybuck a-standing broadside to me, only about twenty steps away, an' he hadn't seen nor heard me, for I was behind a big tree. I was that nervous I didn't think I could have hit the side of a barn, so I rested my carbine against the side of the tree, took as good aim as I could about where I thought his heart ought to be—right behind the fore shoulder—an' let him have it; an' I'm blest if I didn't fetch him, first pop. He gave one big bound into the air an' fell dead; an' just then two does, that had been laying down behind some bushes, jumped an' run an' were out of sight in a jiffy, before I could shove another cartridge into me carbine. But I didn't want any more deer meat just then, so I came back to camp to get the horse to fetch the meat in."
"But, Tom," I asked, "what are we going to do with so much venison?"