Sunset Ranch: A Story of a Boy's Adventures in the West — page 252: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

240 The Stampede. “And why not?” demanded Karl. “Good reason,” said Little Buckshot, with a glance at the bear. “What! You’re not afraid of a dead bear, are your” | “No; um dead, all right.” “Of course he is.” “Me get his claws. Show big chief. Ugh! Wear um—beautiful necklace—fall down, worship me.” Karl laughed boisterously. ‘Another case of ‘alone I did it,’ I suppose, as Cuthbert would say. Ah, well, let him have the glory, | guess I want a rest more’n anything else.” And the last glimpse Karl had of the Indian he was industriously at work severing the toes of the once mighty monarch of American beasts. The hole in the wall afforded the two young allies a secure refuge through the following day. Once Little Buckshot crept out to take the stiff- ness from his wounded limbs, but he did not ven- ture near the retreat of the desperate characters who had made their stronghold in this wild, for- saken land, contenting himself with a trip to the in- closure where Buckskin and the Indian pony had. been left picketed. They were still there, and had apparently not been discovered by any roving outlaw. The hours dragged to Karl. He was utterly weary of tough old pemmican, and endeavored to make a dish that would be some- what more palatable by cooking the last of the In- dian’s scanty allowance. After this they would have to look elsewhere for their meals. The coming of night was eagerly welcomed, as both of them were anxious to get to work. It had been decided that if the chances appeared cConniclooOokks.€©