addle of venison was
the possible extreme, and the occupants of the line-camp possessed a
ruddy health which promised appetites to grace the occasion.

Christmas day dawned under ideal conditions. Soft winds swayed the dead
weeds and leafless shrubs, the water trickled down the creek from pool
to pool, reminding one of a lazy, spring day, with droning bees and
flights of birds afield. Sargent rode the morning patrol alone, meeting
Joel at the halfway point, when the two dismounted, whiling away several
hours in considering future plans of the ranch.

It was high noon when the two returned to their respective quarters.
Dell had volunteered to supervise the roasting of the venison, and on
his crony's return, the two sat down to their Christmas dinner. What the
repast lacked in linen and garnishment, it made up in stability, graced
by a cheerfulness and contentment which made its partakers at peace with
the world. Sargent was almost as resourceful in travel and story as
Quince Forrest, and never at a loss for the fitting incident to grace
any occasion.

Dell was a good listener. Any story, even at his own expense, was
enjoyed. "Whether we had corn beef or venison," said he to Sargent, "you
promised to tell a story at dinner to-day."

"The one that you reminded me of when you shot the rifle into the ground
at your feet and scared the antelope away? No offense if I have to
laugh; you looked like a simpleton."

"Tell your story; I'm young, I'll learn," urged Dell.

"You may learn to handle a gun, and make the same mistake again, but in
a new way. It's live and learn. This man was old enough to be your
father, but he looked just as witless as you did."

"Let's have the story," impatiently urged the boy.

"It happened on a camp hunt. Wild turkeys are very plentiful in certain
sections of Texas, and one winter a number of us planned a week's
shooting. In the party was a big, raw-boned ex-sheriff, known as one of
the most fearless officers in the state. In size he simply towered above
the rest of us.

"It was a small party, but we took along a commissary wagon, an
ambulance, saddle horses, and plenty of Mexicans to do the clerking and
coarse handwriting. It was quite a distance to the hunting grounds, and
the first night out, we made a dry camp. A water keg and every jug on
the ranch had been filled for the occasion, and were carried in
the wagon.

"Before reaching the road camp, the big sheriff promised us a quail
p