American Big-Game Hunting 



man. As I had not for months set eyes upon 

 any white man except my own immediate 

 party, this was a treat as pleasant as it was 

 unexpected. The fact that "Coffee" boldly de- 

 serted me here did not deter me from staying 

 to dinner, especially when I saw they had 

 both coffee and flapjacks, — delicacies that I 

 had not reveled in for some weeks past. 

 After spending an hour with them, I started 

 down the creek, leaving poor Kentuck thor- 

 oughly exhausted from loss of blood, and 

 unable to walk another step. To the astonish- 

 ment of the boys, I walked into the stockade 

 with a piece of bacon swinging in one hand 

 and a sack of flour on my back. I doubt if 

 they would have been more surprised had I 

 walked in with General Grant and Queen 

 Victoria on either arm. 



" Coffee " had made a bee-line for home, 

 anxious to be relieved of a load he had car- 

 ried continuously for almost twenty-four hours. 

 As I was so long in following him, they were 

 beginning to feel alarmed at the continued 

 absence of "Blue Grass," — a name given me 

 by Joe, and one that clung to me throughout 

 my stay in the Black Hills. 



