I yelled like a boy, ran down the hill, up the other side of the hollow, to find him stretched out dead, a small hole in his shoulder where the bullet had entered, a great one where it had come out.
The job I made of skinning him lacked some hundred degrees the perfection of my shot, but I accomplished it, and returned to camp in triumph.
"Shore I knowed you'd plunk him," said Jim very much pleased.

"I shot one the other day same way, when he was feedin' off a dead horse.

Now thet's a fine skin.

Shore you cut through once or twice.

But he's only half lofer, the other half in plain coyote.