The Last of the Plainsmen 



straight forward, forehoofs up, antlered head back, 

 to fall dead with a crash. Then for a few moments 

 the Winchester spat a deadly stream of fire, and when 

 emptied was thrown down for the other gun, which 

 in the steady, sure hands of the hunter belched death 

 to the caribou. 



The herd rushed on, leaving the white surface of 

 the lake gray with a struggling, kicking, bellowing 

 heap. When Jones reached the caribou he saw 

 several trying to rise on crippled legs. With his 

 knife he killed these, not without some hazard to 

 himself. Most of the fallen ones were already dead, 

 and the others soon lay still. Beautiful gray crea 

 tures they were, almost white, with wide-reaching, 

 symmetrical horns. 



A medley of yells arose from the shore, and Rea 

 appeared running with two sleds, with the whole 

 tribe of Yellow Knives pouring out of the forest 

 behind him. 



&quot; Buff, you re jest what old Jim said you was;&quot; 

 thundered Rea, as he surveyed the gray pile. 

 &quot; Here s winter meat, an I d not have given a biscuit 

 for all the meat I thought you d get.&quot; 



&quot; Thirty shots in less than thirty seconds,&quot; said 

 Jones, &quot; an I ll bet every ball I sent touched hair. 

 How many reindeer? &quot; 



&quot;Twenty! twenty! Buff, or I ve forgot how to 



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