used to come out here just to shoot for
the sake of killing. I've known a party of six men to kill twenty or
thirty buffalo and then leave the carcasses to the wolves. That was a
shame."

"So it was!" cried Darry. "One or two buffalo would have been enough."

"Some hunters never know when to stop," put in Captain Moore. "They
shoot as long as anything shows itself. If it wasn't for that these
hills would be filled with buffalo, deer, bears, and all other kind of
game."

The morning was clear and cool, and everybody in the party was in the
best of spirits. The course was down into a broad valley, in the middle
of which flowed the Rocky Pass River, and then up a series of hills
leading to Tom Long Mountain--a favorite resort in this territory for
sportsmen.

"Do you think we'll see or hear anything of those desperadoes?" asked
Joe of his brother, as they rode along side by side.

"It's not likely," answered the young captain. "As soon as they learn
that the soldiers are after them they'll take to their heels in
double-quick order. They haven't any taste for meeting our regulars."

"It's queer that this Matt Gilroy should go in for this sort of life--if
he is as well educated as you say."

"Some men don't like anything better, Joe--they wouldn't earn their
living honestly if they could. It's queer that this is so, but it's a
fact. Those men have no regular homes, although many often talk of
settling down. Generally they die with their boots on, as the saying
goes."

By noon the party had covered fifteen miles and were well into the
hills. They came to a rest beside a fine spring which flowed from a
split in the rocks. Near at hand was some dense brushwood, and old
Benson rightfully guessed that it would not be difficult to beat up some
birds.

"You can now try your luck at aiming," he said to the boys, and led the
way into the dense growth. Soon a flock of birds arose directly before
them, and both Darry and Joe took a quick shot, bringing down seven of
the quarry. Then the scout fired, and five other birds dropped.

"Pretty good for a starter!" cried old Benson, as they stalked around
picking up the game. "That target practice has made you both pretty
steady. Just a round dozen, all told. That's a-plenty for dinner, I
reckon."

Captain Moore was also pleased when told of what his brother and his
cousin had accomplished. "You'll make great hunters in time," he said.
"The main thing is to keep your nerve when