“Falk started to make some objections, but old Rip raised the rifle, and Falk, with a wild, despairing cuss, up-ended himself. He was a big man, as I’ve told you, and when he keeled over he come down so hard it jarred the earth. “‘Wakstashonee!’ cries Rip, ‘that worst I ever see! Got to do better, or I shoot anyhow!’ “So up goes Falk, and down he comes, and up he goes and down he comes, in all kinds of shapes and styles till Steve and me, we had to jam our handkerchers in our mouths for fear we’d snort out loud and spoil the game. “‘Holy sufferin’!’ says Steve, ‘but ain’t he just everlastingly run up against the worst of it this heat! We couldn’t have wished no better if we tried, Jay!’ “Well, I should say that there wasn’t a piece as big as a quarter on Falk that wasn’t black and blue when at last he seemed to get the knack of it, and held himself up in a wobbly sort of way. “‘There,’ says Rip, ‘that’s more like business. Just keep feet still--I going to shoot heels off boots.’ “Falk hollered murder. “Old Rip shook his head. ‘You make such noise I get rattled and shoot hole through foot,’ he complained. Falk shut up like a clam. “‘Here we go fresh!’ says Rip. ‘Now don’t move feet.’ “Blam! And the right heel zipped into space. Blim! And away went the left one. “‘Good shooting for old man!’ says Rip. ‘Now you rest. Bimeby we have some more fun.’ “You should have seen Falk’s face as he sat there resting, with the pleasant future in his mind. He wasn’t happy, and he showed it. As soon as he got his wind he tried to bribe Rip, but it didn’t go. He promised him money and ponies and whisky and tobacco, and everything under the sun. Rip simply shook his head. ‘Don’t want!’ says he. ‘Having plenty good time now. Don’t talk any more. Want think what do next.’ “So there they sat, and whenever Rip looked at a place, Falk, he looked too, for he had a large interest in the matter, and it was pretty medium hard to figure out what was passing through Rip’s head. “There was a mud-puddle with about six inches of water and six foot of mud at the end of the pot-hole. Rip took that in very earnest. “‘Hunh,’ says he, ‘you rested now!’ “‘No, I ain’t!’ cries Falk, with the sweat starting out all over him. ‘I ain’t rested a little bit. Now, just wait a minute--honest, I’m all played out!’ “‘No ask question--tell you about it. I say rested, you _rested_,’ answers Rip, in a tone of voice that wasn’t to be argued with. Falk knuckled. ‘For God’s sake! What’s it going to be now?’ he asked. “‘You _fish_,’ says Rip. ‘Plenty dam big fat fish, you!’ He pointed to the puddle. ‘Now swim!’ “I may have mentioned that Falk was stuck on his appearance? Well, he was--powerful. So when it came to wallowing around in a mud-puddle with his brand new hunting clothes on, he beefed for fair. Moses! How he cussed!