LETTER VII. 95 



with dew and sunshine on them they looked 

 almost purple. And again my express, which 

 had served me so well with only two miss-fires 

 before that morning in ten years' work, missed 

 fire, and set the bighorns going best pace 

 downhill. As they went, I snatched the spare 

 rifle from Toma, a common Winchester repeater, 

 and knocked over the hindmost ram at the gallop. 

 Unfortunately I hit him too far back, so that he 

 recovered himself, and, as the hillside was bare 

 and stony, my hunter could not track him except 

 by the blood, which soon ceased. Let me have 

 done with the story of that good rifle's delin- 

 quencies at once. Sometimes it went off, offcener 

 it would not, until, at last, I lost confidence in it 

 to such an extent that /missed even if the rifle did 

 not miss fire. The last evil turn it did me was 

 one morning on the broken face of the cliffs. 

 We had both rifles with us, but when Toma 

 whispered ' Bears,' I forgave my old friend, and 

 put my trust in her again. Two black bears, 

 huge big fellows, with glossy black coats, were 

 scuttling up the bank through the yellow birches, 

 their fat sides shaking as they ran. Both barrels 

 missed fire again, and by the time I had got hold 

 of the Winchester the bears had disappeared. 



From that date, though the Winchester had 

 lost its back-sight, I used it exclusively, and 



