ing a slight wound. The
next instant the stag charged at me from the cover of the thickety
fence corner. Not having sense enough to take to the nearest
protection, I turned and ran like a scared wolf across the field, the
hog following me like a hound. My father risked a running shot, which
missed its target. The darkies were yelling, "Run, chile! Run, Mars'
Reed! Shoot! Shoot!" when it occurred to me that I had a pistol; and
pointing it backward as I ran, I blazed away, killing the big fellow
in his tracks.

The other occasion was years afterward, when I was a trail foreman at
Abilene, Kansas. My herd had arrived at that market in bad condition,
gaunted from almost constant stampedes at night, and I had gone into
camp some distance from town to quiet and recuperate them. That day I
was sending home about half my men, had taken them to the depot with
our wagon, and intended hauling back a load of supplies to my camp.
After seeing the boys off I hastened about my other business, and near
the middle of the afternoon started out of town. The distance to camp
was nearly twenty miles, and with a heavy load, principally salt, I
knew it would be after nightfall when I reached there. About five
miles out of town there was a long, gradual slope to climb, and I had
to give the through team their time in pulling to its summit. Near the
divide was a small box house, the only one on the road if I remember
rightly, and as I was nearing it, four or five dogs ran out and scared
my team. I managed to hold them in the road, but they refused to quiet
down, kicking, rearing, and plunging in spite of their load; and once
as they jerked me forward, I noticed there was a dog or two under the
wagon, nipping at their heels. There was a six-shooter lying on the
seat beside me, and reaching forward I fired it downward over the end
gate of the wagon. By the merest accident I hit a dog, who raised a
cry, and the last I saw of him he was spinning like a top and howling
like a wolf. I quieted the team as soon as possible, and as I looked
back, there was a man and woman pursuing me, the latter in the lead. I
had gumption enough to know that they were the owners of the dog, and
whipped up the horses in the hope of getting away from them. But the
grade and the load were against me, and the next thing I knew, a big,
bony woman, with fire in her eye, was reaching for me. The wagon wheel
warded her off, and I leaned out of her reach to the far side, yet sh