When Jones reached the caribou he saw several trying to rise on crippled legs.

With his knife he killed these, not without some hazard to himself.

Most of the fallen ones were already dead, and the others soon lay still.

Beautiful gray creatures they were, almost white, with wide-reaching, symmetrical horns.
A medley of yells arose from the shore, and Rea appeared running with two sleds, with the whole tribe of Yellow Knives pouring out of the forest behind him.
"Buff, you're jest what old Jim said you was," thundered Rea, as he surveyed the gray pile.

"Here's winter meat, an' I'd not have given a biscuit for all the meat I thought you'd get." "Thirty shots in less than thirty seconds," said Jones, "An' I'll bet every ball I sent touched hair.