Seeley Swan Pathfinder -

A fly'n bolt


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Many moons ago whilst living out of the old Mr. Emily log'n camp in eastern Oregon, I was cutt'n timber for a man known as R.W. He resided on a little ranch near a place called Cove.

I was the last man standing – that is – last timber cutter on the job and he was the cat skinner.

Anyway, we are out to lunch together and one day he fessed up to a crime of sorts the fall before. Like they say, "confession is good for the soul" - so they say. The story continued.

Lots of elk would come down in the late fall and mooch off his hay stack. Soo, he tells himself, self you should be eat'n one of them there creatures. Trouble was over the knoll was a nosey nabor who would hear the gunshot.

Problem solved.

He then bought the most powerful crossbow on the market. He wanted to make sure the elk dropped where it was shot. Not wanting to believe he needed to read the warning, he just set up a couple of bales of straw to take a few practice shots.

After a short struggle to cock the thing, he carefully aimed and – zing went the funny look'n arrow. Missed the bales, glanced off a rock and went soaring over the knoll. Surely it didn't get to the nabor's house? But lo and behold before long the deputy shows up with the ugly projectile in hand.

Sez to R.W., who he knew, that the nabor found this here thing stuck in his wall by the kitchen window. Did ya see any strangers about today?

Not wanting to own up to the transgression, R.W. sez, "Why there's strange folks driving by all the time headed up the canyon. Ya can't never tell what they're up to." It was a good thing R.W. did away with the bales of straw just in case.

So ended the case of the fly'n bolt or was it a funny arrow? After 40 years, I can't remember if'n he got his elk or not.


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