After a little I discovered some sort of a horned animal there,
and I reckoned this was good enough game for me to try and capture, so
led the mule out to one side and down the hill near the creek, then tied
her, and crept along the bank, about four feet high, toward the little
meadow. When about right, as I thought, I climbed up behind a bunch of
sycamores, and when I slowly and cautiously raised up I was within fifty
yards of a cow or steer of some sort which I could dimly see. I put a
ball square in its forehead and it fell without a struggle. I loaded
again quick as possible, and there saw two other smaller cattle stepping
very high as though terrified, but not aware of the nature or location
of the danger. I gave a low whistle and one of them looked toward me
long enough for me to put a ball in it. The third one was now behind a
clump of sycamores, and I soon saw its face through a little opening not
more than three inches wide. I made a shot, and wounded it, and then
rushed up and gave it a fatal one.
I examined my game and found the first one was a poor old cow, but the
others were yearlings, one of them very fat and nice, and I soon had the
hind quarters skinned out, and all the fat I could find, which made a
big load for the mule. It was now almost dark, and the next problem was
to get back to camp again. The brushy hills would be terrible to cross
with a load of meat, and by the way the ground lay I concluded our camp
was on this same creek farther down.
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