192 Hunting Trips of a Ranchman 



shoulders and pulled the trigger. Over went the 

 two bucks ! And when I rushed down to where they 

 lay I found I had pulled a little to one side, and the 

 bullet had broken the backs of both. While my 

 companion was dressing them I went back and paced 

 off the distance. It was just four hundred and thirty- 

 one long paces; over four hundred yards. Both 

 were large bucks and very fat, with the velvet hang- 

 ing in shreds from their antlers, for it was late in 

 August. The day was waning and we had a long 

 ride back to the wagon, each with a buck behind his 

 saddle. When we came back to the river valley it 

 was pitch dark, and it was rather ticklish work for 

 our heavily laden horses to pick their way down the 

 steep bluffs and over the rapid stream ; nor were we 

 sorry when we saw ahead, under a bluff, the gleam 

 of the camp fire, as it was reflected back from the 

 canvas-topped prairie schooner, that for the time 

 being represented home to us. 



This was much the best shot I ever made ; and it 

 is just such a shot as any one will occasionally make 

 if he takes a good many chances and fires often at 

 ranges where the odds are greatly against his hit- 

 ting. I suppose I had fired a dozen times at animals 

 four or five hundred yards off, and now, by the doc- 

 trine of chances, I happened to hit ; but I would have 

 been very foolish if I had thought for a moment 

 that I had learned how to hit at over four hundred 

 yards. I have yet to see the hunter who can hit 

 with any regularity at that distance, when he has 

 to judge it for himself; though I have seen plenty 



