Hunting American Big Game 



snow and drops of water and slush from 

 our rifles and sights, and with a whispered 

 advice from Woody not to be in a hurry 

 if they came toward us, but to reserve fire 

 in order to make sure work, — for no shel- 

 tering tree awaited us as a safe retreat, 

 nothing but snowy ridges for miles, — I 

 opened the ball with the young lady who 

 was sitting down. 



She dropped her bone, clapped one of 

 her paws to her ribs, and to my happiness 

 waltzed down the snowbank. As she now 

 seemed to be out of the dance, I turned to 

 her brother, — for such I judged him to be 

 afterward, — who, with great affection, had 

 gone down with her until she stuck her 

 head in the snow. Not understanding this, 

 he smelled around his fallen relative, when 

 a hollow three-hundred-and-thirty-grain 

 chunk of lead nearly severed one hip and 

 smashed the other. He did not stop to 

 reason, but promptly jumped on his rela- 

 tive, and then there occurred a lively bit of 

 a scrimmage. Over and over they rolled, 

 slapping, biting, and making the best fight 

 of it they could, considering the plight 

 they were in. Each probably accused the 

 other of the mishap. 



The snow was dyed a crimson hue. It 

 was like the scene of a bloody battleground. 



35 



