out, except by coming back on me. The minute I showed mesilf, he made a
rush for me arms, just as all the purty gals in Tipperary used to do when
I came along the street. An antelope can't do much, but I don't care about
their coming down on me in that style, and so I pulled up and let drive.
He was right on me when I pulled trigger, and he made one big jump that
carried him clear over my head, and landed him stone dead on the other
side."

"That was a good shot, but not as good as when you brought down the
grizzly bear at my heels."

Mickey O'Rooney was particularly busy just then with his culinary
operations, and he stared at the lad with an expression of comical
amazement that made the young fellow laugh.

"Begorrah, why don't ye talk sinse?" added Mickey, impatiently. "I've
heard Soot Simpson say that if ye only put your shot in the right spot, ye
don't want but one of 'em to trip the biggest grizzly that ever navigated.
I was going to obsarve that ye had been mighty lucky to send in your two
pistol-shots just where they settled the business, though I s'pose the
haythen was so close on ye whin ye fired that ye almost shoved the weapon
into his carcass."

"I shot him, Mickey, before I fairly started to run, but he didn't mind it
any more than if I spit in his face. It was your own shot that did the
business."

"Me own shot!" repeated Mickey, still staring with an astonished
expression. "I never fired any shot at the baste, and never saw him till a
few minutes ago, when I was coming this way."