Jerry was lounging alongside one of the tents, engaged in getting his
fishing tackle in order, for a try in the pool below the falls.
"Shall we send the horses out to tote it in?" he asked, after the usual
fashion of greeting greenhorns when they come back from a hunt
apparently unattended by success.
"Did you hear me shoot?" asked Bluff carelessly.
"Why, yes, twice; and some time apart. What was it--a crow or a
jack-rabbit?"
Bluff only smiled as Mr. Mabie came out of the tent and glanced at him.
"What would you say that was, sir?" he asked, thrusting something in
front of the old stockman.
Starting back, Mr. Mabie looked hastily at the hairy object.
"An elk's tail, as sure as you live!" he remarked, his face relaxing in
a smile.
"What's that?" roared Jerry, springing to his feet.
"Oh, you needn't get excited about it. Do you see the dull spots on my
knife? Well, I bled my game, all right, just as I wanted to do with that
bully good blade that was left behind; and if Reddy will only go back
with me, we can bring the old fellow in on a horse," said Bluff coolly.
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