No one went to bed after I came, but all sat and roasted meat and ate till they were satisfied.
This sporting trip was quite different from deer hunting in Wisconsin, and nothing like looking for game in Death Valley where nothing lived.
It was the hardest night's work that ever came to me in many a day, and not the wild sport I generally looked for when on the chase.

I felt pretty well when I got up, and a chunk of my last night's prize which had been toasted for me was eaten with a relish, for it was the best of meat and I, of course, had a first class appetite.

I had to tell them my last hunting story, and was much praised as a lucky boy.
We would not be compelled to kill any more of our poor oxen in order to live.

So far we had killed six of them, and there were five left.

Our present situation was much appreciated, compared with that of a few days ago when we were crawling slowly over the desert, hungry, sore-footed and dry, when to lie was far easier than to take steps forward.