Well, soon after we shot a buffalo bull, so when it fell, off he jumps from his horse an' runs up to it.

So did I, for I wasn't sure the beast was dead, an' I had jist got up when it rose an' rushed at the natter-list.
"'Out o' the way,' I yelled, for my rifle was empty; but he didn't move, so I rushed for'ard an' drew the pistol out o' his belt and let fly in the bull's ribs jist as it ran the poor man down.

Martin came up that moment an' put a ball through its heart, an' then we went to pick up the natter-list.

He came to in a little, an' the first thing he said was, 'Where's my revolver ?' When I gave it to him he looked at it, an' said with a solemcholy shake o' the head, 'There's a whole barrel-full lost!' It turned out that he had taken to usin' the barrels for bottles to hold things in, but he forgot to draw the charges, so sure enough I had fired a charge o' bum-bees an' beetles an' small shot into the buffalo! "But that's not what I wos goin' to tell ye yit.

We corned to a part o' the plains where we wos well-nigh starved for want o' game, an' the natter-list got so thin that ye could a'most see through him, so I offered to kill my horse, an' cut it up for meat; but you niver saw sich a face he made.