However, he straightened his legs in such fashion that it came to the ground without a jar.

I then made him move back, and picked up the rifle.

By this time he was quite sober, and really did not seem angry, looking at me quizzically.

He told me that if I would give him back his rifle, he would call it quits and we could go on together.

I did not think it best to trust him, so I told him that our hunt was pretty well through, anyway, and that I would go home.
There was a blasted pine on the trail, in plain view of the camp, about a mile off, and I told him that I would leave his rifle at that blasted pine if I could see him in camp, but that he must not come after me, for if he did I should assume that it was with hostile intent and would shoot.