Blacktails in the Bad Lands 
woebegone a countenance as I could muster. 
I intended to get even with the foreman. 
A sardonic smile stole over his face, and 
a disgusted look over those of the others, 
as they noticed my unstained hands. I re- 
marked to the foreman that I had shot some 
game. He promptly replied, “ You did n't; 
if you had, you ’d have been so proud you ’d 
be as red as a scoria butte with deer blood, 
to show off. No such luck; and as long as 
you and that thirty-eight-caliber pop-gun go 
rustling around this country, I reckon we ’ll 
eat pork and be glad‘ to get it” 
To this I answered that if he would promise 
to pack in what game I had killed, and would 
do it, I would give him the hunting-knife 
that he had been trying to steal for the last 
week. He instantly called it a bargain, and 
asked how far it was to the game. I an- 
swered, that it was about five miles, and 
that I would take him there in the morning. 
So next morning we started on horseback, 
and I went far enough with him to point out 
exactly where the deer were, and leaving 
him, I rode over to call on a friend who had 
a small horse-ranch in the neighborhood. I 
2907 
