"'Twas not the lonesomeness so much as the emptiness that troubled me. Before the morning came, lighting up the valley, I was going down to the river on the last hunt. 'Twas do or die that trip--an' it seemed to me I could see the gleam o' my bones away down there through the mist that hung over the sick river. I made straight for the river, knowing there was a comfort an' fellowship in the water which would draw game there, an' the big black ram, too, 'fore he marched off inter the thick o' the kloof for his sleep. By-and-by, as I went down among the rocks an' trees, I pitched head first--ker smash--in a sudden fit o' dizziness, but the shock did me good. It rattled up my brain--an' instead o' jest plunging ahead I went slow--slow an' soft as a cat on the trail--pushing aside a branch here, shoving away a dry twig there, an' glaring around with hungry eyes. I spotted him!" "The ram?" "Ay, the ram. The very buck I'd had in my mind when I loaded the old gun. He stood away off the other side o' the river, moving his ears, but still as a rock, and black as the bowl of this pipe, except where the white showed along his side. He seemed to be looking straight at me--an' I sank by inches to the ground with my legs all o' a shake. Then, on my falling, he stepped down to the water, and stood there admiring hisself--his sharp horns an' fine legs--an' on my belly, all empty as 'twas, I crawled, an' crawled, an' crawled. There was a bush this side the river, an' I got it in line. At last I reached it, the sweat pouring off me, an' slowly I rose up. The water was dripping from his muzzle as he threw his head up, an' he turned to spring back, when, half-kneeling, I fired, an' the next moment the old gun kicked me flat as a pancake." "And you missed him?" "Never! I got him. I said I would, an' I did. I got him, an' a 9 pound barbel." "Uncle Abe!" "I say a 9 pound barbel, tho' he might a been 8 and a half pound, an' a brace of pheasants." "Uncle Abe!" "I zed so--an' a hare an', an'," he went on quickly, "a porkipine." "Uncle Abe!" "Well--what are you Abeing me for?" "You got all those with one shot. Never!" "I was there--you weren't. 'Tis easy accounted for. When I pulled the trigger the fish leapt from the water in the line, and the bullet passed through him inter the buck. I tole you the gun kicked. Well, it flew out o' my hands, an' hit the hare square on the nose. To recover myself, I threw up my hands, an' caught hold o' the two pheasants jest startled outer the bush." "And the porcupine?" "I sot down on the porkipine, an' if you'd like to 'xamine my pants you'll find where his quills went in. I was mighty sore, an' I could ha' spared him well from the bag. But 'twas a wonderful good shot. You're not going?" "Yes, I am. I'm afraid to stay with you." "Well, so long! I cut this yere forslag from the skin o' that same buck." "Let me see--it's nine years to the big drought." "That's it." "That skin has kept well."