urs
may still be saved. Take the gun along with you. You may find
something. Go, comrade--friend--go!"

Again the same response, in a similar tone.

"I sayed, when we were in the fight," adds the hunter, "an' aterwards,
when gallupin' through the smoke, that livin' or dyin' we'd got to stick
thegither. Didn't I say that, Frank Hamersley? I repeat it now. Ef
you go unner hyar in the middle o' this sage-brush, Walt Wilder air
goin' to wrap his karkiss in a corner o' the same windin' sheet. There
ain't much strength remainin' in my arms now, but enuf, I reck'n, to
keep them buzzarts off for a good spell yit. They don't pick our bones
till I've thinned thar count anyhow. Ef we air to be rubbed out, it'll
be by the chokin' o' thirst, and not the gripin' o' hunger. What durned
fools we've been, not to a-thinked o' 't afore! but who'd iver think o'
eatin' turkey buzzart? Wall, it's die dog or swaller the hatchet; so
onpalatable as thar flesh may be, hyar goes to make a meal o' it!"

While speaking, he has carried the gun to his shoulder.

Simultaneous with his last words comes the crack, quickly followed by
the descent of a zopilote among the sages.

"Now, Frank," he says, stooping to pick up the dead bird, while the
scared flock flies farther away, "let's light a bit o' a fire, an' cook
it. Thar's plenty o' sage for the stuffin', an' its own flavour'll do
for seasonin' 'stead o' inyuns. I reck'n we kin git some o' it down, by
holdin' our noses; an' at all events, it'll keep us alive a leetle
longer. Wagh, ef we only hed water!"

As if a fresh hope has come suddenly across his mind, he once more
raises himself erect to the full stretch of his gigantic stature, and
standing thus, gazes eastwardly across the plain.

"Thar's a ridge o' hills out that way," he says. "I'd jest spied it
when you spoke o' giein out. Whar thar's hills, thar's a likelihood o'
streams. Sposin', Frank, you stay hyar, whiles I make tracks torst
them. They look like they wa'n't mor'n ten miles off anyhow. I ked
easy get back by the mornin'. D'ye think ye kin hold out thet long by
swallerin' a bit o' the buzzart?"

"I think I could hold out that long as well without it. It's more the
thirst that's killing me. I feel as if liquid fire was coursing through
my veins. If you believe there be any chance of finding water, go,
Walt."

"I'll do so; but don't you sturve in the meanwhile. Cook the critter
afore lettin' it kim to the