INTER-OCEAN HUNTING TALES 



flinch through some muscular contraction 

 which it is hard to account for. The thick 

 sage brush and intervening hills made a 

 second shot practically hopeless. Jake 

 seemed overcome with emotion, quite as 

 much as myself. For once his eloquent 

 tongue failed him; the words appeared to 

 stick in his throat. His wide open eyes and 

 his distended jaws, which seemed to be pried 

 open with a quid of tobacco in one corner of 

 his mouth, betrayed his astonishment. In 

 silence we remounted and rode a considerable 

 space without speaking a word. 



Finally Jake opened the conversation with 

 all the tact of an accomplished diplomat. 



Turning in his saddle and looking intently 

 at me he exclaimed: "Say, do you know 

 what I would do if I missed a shot like that?" 



"No," I replied. 



"I would take that gun and smash it over 

 the first rock I came across." 



I quite agreed with him that it was the 



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