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Updated: May 16, 2025
"`Out o' the way, I yelled, for my rifle was empty; but he didn't move, so I rushed forward an' drew the pistol out o' his belt and let fly in the bull's ribs jist as it ran the poor man down. Martin came up that moment an' put a ball through its heart, and then we went to pick up the Natter-list.
Anyhow, he wos a pheelosopher a natter-list I think he call his-self." "A naturalist," suggested Cameron. "Ay, that wos more like it. Well, he wos about six feet two in his moccasins, an' as thin as a ramrod, an' as blind as a bat leastways he had weak eyes an wore green spectacles.
Well, we cut up the horse, an' carried the flesh an' marrowbones into camp, takin' care to leave the hoofs an' skin behind, an' sot to work an' roasted steaks an' marrowbones." "When the natter-list came back ye should ha' seen the joyful face he put on when he smelt the grub, for he was all but starved out, poor critter." "'What have we got here? cried he, rubbin' his hands an' sittin' down."
"`Steaks an' marrow-bones, says Martin. "`Capital! says he. `I'm so hungry. "So he fell to work like a wolf. I niver seed a man pitch into anything like as that Natter-list did into that horseflesh. "`These are first-rate marrow-bones, says he, squintin' with one eye down the shin bone o' the hind-leg to see if it was quite empty. "`Yes, sir, they is, answered Martin, as grave as a judge.
Well, we cut up the horse and carried the flesh and marrow-bones into camp, takin' care to leave the hoofs and skin behind, and sot to work and roasted steaks and marrow-bones. "When the Natter-list came back ye should ha' seen the joyful face he put on when he smelt the grub, for he was all but starved out, poor critter. "`What have we got here? cried he, rubbin' his hands and sittin' down.
Well, soon after we shot a buffalo bull, so when it fell, off he jumps from his horse an' runs up to it. So did I, for I wasn't sure the beast was dead, an' I had jist got up when it rose an' rushed at the natter-list.
"Well, would ye believe it, he turned that natter-list did as sick as a dog on the spot wot he wos standin' on, an' didn't taste meat again for three days!" Shortly after the conclusion of Joe's story they reached the camp, and here they found the women and children flying about in a state of terror, and the few men who had been left in charge arming themselves in the greatest haste.
"But that's not what I wos goin' to tell ye yit. We corned to a part o' the plains where we wos well-nigh starved for want o' game, an' the natter-list got so thin that ye could a'most see through him, so I offered to kill my horse, an' cut it up for meat; but you niver saw sich a face he made. 'I'd rather die first, says he, 'than eat it; so we didn't kill it.
"One day I noticed that the Natter-list had stuffed small corks into the muzzles of all the six barrels of his revolver.
"'Out o' the way, I yelled, for my rifle was empty; but he didn't move, so I rushed for'ard an' drew the pistol out o' his belt and let fly in the bull's ribs jist as it ran the poor man down. Martin came up that moment an' put a ball through its heart, an' then we went to pick up the natter-list.
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