There was another thing Oscar did not think of, and that was whether or not his pony would stand fire. But it was now too late to debate that question, and besides, it had been settled to his entire satisfaction. Almost simultaneously with the quick reports of the fowling-piece there arose other sounds of an entirely different character—a crashing in the bushes, followed by muffled exclamations of astonishment and anger. These sounds were made by Oscar, who had been very neatly unhorsed. The pony would no doubt stand fire well enough to suit his half-savage, rough-riding Indian master, but he was not steady enough to suit the young taxidermist. When the double-barrel roared almost between his ears, his head went down, his hind feet came up, and Oscar, being taken off his guard, went whirling through the air as if he had been thrown from a catapult. He lost no time in scrambling to his feet, but he was too late to catch his pony. All he saw of him was the end of his tail, which was flourishing triumphantly in the breeze as the tricky little beast went out of sight over the brow of the hill. “Well, go if you want to!” shouted Oscar, holding one hand to his head, and rubbing his shoulder with the other. “You’ll never come that on me again, I tell you. I can hunt just as well on foot. Now, where’s my gun?” The weapon had been pitched into a thick bush, a short distance in advance of the one in which Oscar had brought up, and fortunately it had sustained no injury beyond a few deep scratches in the stock, which Oscar tried to rub out with the sleeve of his coat. The boy’s first care was to put fresh loads into each barrel, and his second to hunt up his specimens, which he found to be perfect in every way. After examining them to his satisfaction, he placed them in a couple of paper cones which he had taken the precaution to put into his game-bag before leaving the fort, and then set out in search of the jack-rabbit he had seen a few hours before. He did not waste any time in looking for his pony, for he knew that all efforts to recapture him would be unavailing. The animal would no doubt make the best of his way back to the corral from which he had been taken in the morning, and Oscar would find him there when he returned to the fort. If he ever got on his back again, he would teach him that he was expected to halt the instant he saw his rider raise a gun to his face, and give him to understand, besides, that any and every attempt to throw that rider would be sure to bring a certain and speedy punishment. The young hunter walked up and down the ridge several times, carefully beating the cover on each side of the path, but he could not make the jack-rabbit, or any member of his family, show himself.