I begged him not to touch Trusty, as he might misunderstand it, and we soon reached my quarry. The stranger, whose name was Warden, as he told me, laid aside his leathern jacket, which was tastily ornamented with fringe, turned up his shirt-sleeves, displaying thus his finely formed muscular and white arms, and drew a splendid hunting-knife from its sheath. We set to work together in skinning the buffalo, in which operation Warden displayed a remarkable skill, then broke it up, and while my people carried the meat to the fort we proceeded to the other buffalo higher up the prairie, and prepared it in the same way for removal. While we were engaged in skinning this animal, Warden remarked he was surprised at my using rifles of so large a bore, as it was a settled fact that the long Kentucky rifles, one of which he carried, produced much greater effect with small bullets. I contradicted this assertion, and an argument ensued, as neither would give up his opinion. Warden offered a wager, and staked his rifle against one of mine, which I accepted. We cut off the buffalo's head with the skin attached to it, and had it carried to the fort with the meat, in order to try our rifles on it. It was noon when we got back. We cleaned ourselves and enjoyed our dinner, a buffalo fillet roasted on the spit, and some of the marrow-bones. After drinking coffee and smoking a cigar, we carried the buffalo head outside the fort, put it in front of an oak, pressed a piece of white paper on the forehead, and then walked eighty paces back, I shot first, and my bullet passed through the paper into the head, and an inch deep into the oak. Warden fired next, and also sent his bullet into the piece of paper, but there was no trace of the bullet on the tree behind the head. We removed the skin from the skull and found Warden's bullet lodged under it, close to the hole which mine had made. Warden at once allowed the bet lost, but at the same time requested me to sell him a gun, as he could not exist without one. I naturally laughed, as my only object in the matter was conviction, and the bet had only been a joke. Warden, however, shot with surprising accuracy at one hundred yards with his rifle, which was four feet and a half long, the whole weight resting on the left hand in front; but his ball rarely passed through a deer, except when he was close to it.