Sunset Ranch: A Story of a Boy's Adventures in the West — page 251: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Stampede. 239 our Karl looked toward that quarter whence had come the last sounds of conflict. What he saw was a shaggy mass of bear seated astride of which was the panting and triumphant Little Buckshot, who could only grin and gasp the one expressive word: “How oi It was well! Victory had, indeed, perched upon their banner, and to these lads had fallen an adventure that might make them envied by old hunters. When Karl viewed the mighty bulk of their fallen foe, and felt the cruel points of his long claws, he could not but feel that the fortunes of war had fa- vored them highly. Of course, the first thing in order was to call the roll, and ascertain what the cost of victory had been. A few bruises fell to Karl’s share, and he consid- ered that he had escaped very luckily, considering what might have occurred. The Indian was also bruised, and had received numerous scratches that bled, and looked ugly to Karl; but Little Buckshot seemed to take the great- est pride in his wounds, as though they cemented his claim to the coveted claws. And he had well earned the trophies. Karl proceeded to put his gun in serviceable con- dition, as there was no knowing when it might be again called upon for service. When, out of curiosity, he later on examined the defunct bear to discover where he had planted his lead, he found every bullet had lodged in Bruin’s body, and that, given a little time, they must have brought about his death, which fact was honor enough for Karl. Exhausted, he made preparations for sleep, hav- ing his blanket on his back. “Me no sleep—not yet,” said the Indian, Comiclboe® S C©