No! thar ain't ne'er another chance to make kiver.

So hyar goes for a bit o' butcherin'." As the guide thus delivered himself, Hamersley saw him jerk the bowie knife from his belt, its blade red and still reeking with human gore.
In another instant its edge was drawn across the throat of the horse, from which the blood gushed forth in a thick, strong stream, like water from the spout of a pump.

The creature made a last desperate effort to get off, but with its forelegs over the rocks and head held down between them, it could not stir from the spot.

After a convulsive throe or two, it sank down till its ribs rested upon the straddled stone; and in this attitude it ended its life, the head after a time drooping down, the eyes apparently turned with a last reproachful look upon the master who had murdered it! "It hed to be did; thar war no help for it," said Wilder, as he hurriedly turned towards his companion, adding: "Have you got the guns charged ?" Hamersley made answer by handing him back his own rifle.

It was loaded and ready.