American Big-Game Hunting 
my continued and violent exertions in the 
light air,—being almost up to timber-line,—I 
sank upon the ground, and could not refrain 
from smiling at the forlorn appearance we 
presented. 
Blowing like porpoises, their tongues loll- 
ing out, covered with blood from their own 
and the buck’s wounds, the dogs lay extended 
at full length. An examination revealed that 
Kentuck’s mouth was split almost to his ears, 
and there was a hole in his abdomen from 
which his entrails protruded, besides several 
minor cuts. Maida was more bloody than 
hurt, having lost several patches of skin, and 
hair enough to padasaddle. As for myself, my 
antelope-skin shirt and overalls were ripped 
and bloody, one sole was torn from my heavy: 
hunting-boots, elbows and knees were skinned 
by the sharp ledges of slate and loose quartz 
scattered about, and I had a badly cut lip and 
several loose teeth. I considered my great- 
est injury the damage to my rifle. It was 
one that I had made to order by Freund, 
of Denver, being a 45-caliber, heavy octa- 
gon barrel, Springfield needle-gun movement, 
with set triggers and curled maple pistol-grip 
82 
