y that neither horse was killed. Honest,
I'll never breathe it! Not for worlds!"

Sargent's irony was wasted. Dell, in a dazed way, recovered his horse,
mounted, and aimlessly followed his bunkie. On reaching their saddles,
the mental fog lifted, and as if awakening from a pleasant dream, the
boy dismounted. "Did I have it?--the buck ague?" he earnestly inquired.

"You had symptoms of it," answered Sargent, resaddling his horse.
"Whenever a hunter tries to shoot an empty gun, or discharges one into
the ground at his feet, he ought to take something for his nerves. It's
not fatal, and I have hopes of your recovery."

The two turned homeward. Several times Sargent gave vent to a peal of
laughter that rang out like a rifle report, but Dell failed to
appreciate the humor of the situation.

"Well," said the older one, as they dismounted at the stable, "if we
have to fall back on corn beef for our Christmas dinner, I can grace it
with a timely story. And if we have a saddle of venison, it will fit the
occasion just as well."

The inner line was ridden at evening. The cattle were caring for
themselves; but on meeting the lads from headquarters, an unusual amount
of banter and repartee was exchanged.

"Killed an antelope two days before you needed it," remarked Sargent
scathingly. "Well, well! You fellows certainly haven't much confidence
in your skill as hunters."

"Venison improves with age," loftily observed Manly.

"That's a poor excuse. At best, antelope venison is dry meat. We located
a band or two to-day, and if Dell don't care for the shot, I'll go out
in the morning and bring in a fat yearling."

"Is that your prospect for a Christmas roast?" inquired Manly with
refined sarcasm. "Dell, better air your Sunday shirt to-morrow and come
down to headquarters for your Christmas dinner. We're going to have
quite a spread."

Dell threw a glance at Sargent. "Come on," said the latter with polished
contempt, reining his horse homeward. "Just as if we lived on beans at
The Wagon! Just as if our porcelain-lined graniteware wasn't as good as
their tin plates! Catch us accepting! Come on!"

Sargent was equal to his boast. He returned the next day before noon, a
young doe lashed to his saddle cantle, and preparations were made for an
extensive dinner. The practical range man is usually a competent cook,
and from the stores of the winter camp a number of extra dishes were
planned. In the way of a roast, on the plains, a s