A
jet of blood spurted out with astonishing force, and the brute
staggered for a space of time. This gave Ferguson a moment to nock a
second shaft, a broad-head, and with that accuracy known to come in
excitement, he drove it completely through the animal's body, killing
it instantly. When next we met after this episode, he showed me the
bloody arrows and wolf skin as mute evidence of his skill.
Ferguson was won over to archery when, as packer upon our first trip
together, he asked Compton to show him what could be done with the bow
in the way of accurate shooting. Compton is particularly good at long
ranges, so he pointed out a bush about one hundred and seventy-five
yards distant. It was about the size of a dog. Compton took unusual
care with his shots, and dropped three successive arrows in that bush.
When "Ferg" saw this he took the bow seriously.
The timber wolf is seldom met in our clime, and so for this reason he
has been spared the fate common to all fearsome beasts that cross the
trail of an archer. But with that fateful hope which has foreshadowed
and seemingly insured our subsequent achievement, I fervently wish that
some day we may meet, wolf and bowman.
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