Hold it out in one hand."
"Then it'll kick my arm off," said Tommy.
"No, it won't; you won t feel it at all," said the shooter. "Your
arm will give to the recoil. Blaze away!"
"What are you up to with the carbine?" said Hugh.
"I'm going to have a blaze at some of these 'ere buff'loes," said
Tommy gaily. "Bill's lent me a horse. They's got a rifle for you,
and one for the old man. "We'll give them buff'loes hell to-day.
Five rifles--they'll think the French is after them." "Well, but
I want to get back," said Hugh. "We mustn't waste any time. What
about the store-keeper's horses?"
"Ho! it'd never do to take them straight back again," said Tommy.
"Never do. They must have a spell. Besides, what's the hurry?"
And Hugh, recognising that for all the good he could do he might just
as well not hurry back again, resigned himself to the inevitable,
picked up his bridle, went into the shuffling herd of horses,
and caught the one pointed out to him. It was a big, raw-boned,
ragged-hipped bay, a horse that would have been a gentleman under
any other conditions, but from long buffalo-hunting had become a
careless-going, loose-jointed ruffian, taking his life in his hands
every day. He bit savagely at Hugh as he saddled him, and altogether
proclaimed himself devoid of self-respect and the finer instincts.
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