It was plain that one of the prongs had been chipped off, as if by the impact of a glancing bullet.

Fred could no longer deny the mortifying fact that his shot had no more to do with the death of the animal than if it had been a pebble tossed up the cliff by hand.
The discovery did not add to his temper, and he was in an unreasonable mood.
"You hadn't any business to fire at the buck when I did! I had picked him out for my game and it was a mean act on your part.

We both struck him, and I shall claim one-half of him, for I'm hungry, and it will soon be supper-time." A dangerous light shone in the black eyes of the Indian.

Evidently he had no liking for the race of the young man, and his resentment was roused by his words and manner.
"He mine; me take him; you thief!" It occurred to Fred Greenwood at this moment that it would be unwise as well as perilous to quarrel with this denizen of the wilderness.

He was in middle life, active, powerful, wiry and unscrupulous.