“I thought it was queer if I missed him entirely,” declared Roger, with a ring of triumph in his voice; “you can see where my bullet passed through his body, but, as luck would have it, no vital part was touched. I’m glad you managed to finish him, Dick.”
“Yes, so am I for several reasons,” remarked the other; “in the first place we need the meat. Then again, it would be too bad for him to run for miles and in the end drop, and that wound you gave him would have proved fatal finally.”
Of course the party rejoiced to see a supply of meat come in. They knew they could depend on the boys to procure it if there chanced to be any game in the vicinity; and when they heard the double shot more than one of the men licked his lips in full expectation of a treat.
It is a good thing to have a reputation for accomplishing things, for there are times when it spurs the possessor on, in order that he may not lose caste with his admirers.
Roger was not fully satisfied with the shooting of the buck. His fishing instinct had been aroused by the tales he had heard concerning the great finny prizes to be had in these rivers that ran down to the sea, and he longed to be able to capture his first prize in the shape of a salmon.
So, immediately after supper, he got his line in readiness, and set it in hope of a strike. Many times during the evening he left the vicinity of the campfire, where the men were sitting at their ease and exchanging stories, to make an eager investigation of his line.
Roger was, however, doomed to disappointment that night. Either the salmon did not run so far from the sea at this time of the year, or else his bait had not proven satisfactory. In time, no doubt, he would learn better; or he could possibly find a chance to make use of the spear he had secured from a Nez Perces brave, and which was used for striking the great fish as they passed through some narrow estuary of the river, running between the rocks.