Fortunately he landed
in the deep snow, so the fall proved of small consequence.
"He's shot, that's what's the matter with him," said Dick, after an
examination. "Who fired at him? I'm certain none of us did."
The question could not be answered. Bringing out a blanket, they placed
Jasper Grinder upon it, close to the fire, and John Barrow made an
examination of the wound, picking out a couple of the loose buckshot.
"He was probably shot from his own gun," said the guide. "More than
likely he dropped the piece from the tree, and it went off when it
struck the ground."
They bound up the wound carefully, and did all they could for the
sufferer. Then, while Dick watched over Jasper Grinder, the others got
rid of the wolves' carcasses by dragging them into the timber, and then
set to work to prepare the midday meal.
It was fully an hour before Jasper Grinder was able to speak, and then
he could say but little. But he explained how it was that he had been
shot. He wanted to know if the wolves had been driven off, and begged
that they would not leave him alone again.
Pages:
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247