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Bud Loomis relates:

"Once I was buying cattle up Quinault way. Purchased several head from a man who was going to butcher them right there. I had it in the contract that he would do the shooting. He said that would be no trouble at all. He would put down some hay and they would come right up.

He killed the first one with a single shot. Then the others got leary. He shot another and killed it, but the third one he missed hitting in a vital spot. Hit it on the nose and it ran off through the woods. We followed it all the rest of that day. When it came night we were across the river from a fellow's cabin and there was a canoe there.

So I said, "Let's go over and spend the night with him. He's probably lonesome." I had to put up quite a talk to get my companion to go. He know more than I did, perhaps.

We were ringing wet from wandering through the brush all day. When we got inside the clearing, I let out a yell, but didn't get any response. "By golly", I said, "I don't believe he's home." I let out another yell. Finally, he came to the door with his eyes barely open.

"Where were you anyway?", I asked.

"Oh," he says, "I was down to the lake and I came back and there wasn't any wood so I just went to bed."

"Well," I said, "We're wringing wet and haven't had any dinner or supper and we're hungry as wolves."

"I'm sorry," he said, "but there isn't anything in the house to eat."

"We're not particular," I said. "Just fry some bacon and potatoes."

"That would be fine, if I just had them." he replied.

Then I offered to dig the potatoes, but he didn't have any to dig. Then I suggested, "Let's build a fire so we can get warm and dry.

"There's no wood cut." he said.

We stomped around in the dark and finally found a good-sized srpuce limb. He lit his kerosene lamp with a No. 1 burner and a chimney black with soot, and set it in the doorway so we could see to chip up the limb. We built the fire and sat around the stove until twelve o'clock.
He had killed a bird and made a stew, and there was about an inch or two of it left in the kettle. That was all we had to eat."

Finally, I said I wanted to go to bed. I looked at it. There was no bedding. He was sleeping under an old featherbed and there were feathers all over the floor. He had brush underneath for a mattress.

We finally crawled in on the brush with our wet clothes on and pulled the dilapidated feather bed over us. We slept a little, but not much."