After being unconscious for an unknown amount of time, John woke up to find it getting late, his clothes had been removed, and Stridge was kneeling next to him to treat his wounds.

Stretch put a handful of herbs in his mouth, chewed on them, and applied them to John's wound, when a stinging pain struck John and John fell unconscious again.

……

It was late at night when he woke up again, and Stridge lit a campfire, as if preparing to set up camp there, and John had to close his eyes and go to sleep.

……

The next morning, John couldn't tell whether he was awakened by a nightmare or the cold air in the woods, and found Stretch staring at him in a daze, when he suddenly woke up and turned his head away with his eyes facing each other.

"There must be a vigil left on a night like this." Streich said hurriedly.

"Lady Manstar...... You saved me, we have to go back...... Can...... I was hurt so badly. ”

John moved, and although the pain was not as good as it was yesterday, it was still difficult to stand, let alone ride home.

"You lie down first, and I'll find a way to carry you back."

"Lady Manstar...... Cut off the bearskin...... We can't leave empty-handed. John smiled bitterly.

Hearing this, Stridge pressed the dagger against the bearskin, and cut a hole in it very unskillfully, which was supposed to have damaged a perfect bearskin, but John had no intention of blaming - it was probably the first time that Stridge had done this.

After cutting off the entire bearskin, Stretch laid it flat on the snow and looked at the masterpiece with satisfaction.

"Aside from a bit of blood, it's really exciting loot."

"Hey...... Lady Manstar, it's your credit, you can say that you have subdued this beast yourself...... Let's make this hunt special. ”

John remembered the camera the photographer had given him, and handed it to Strichie, asking her to help take a picture of the bear, which was the first work in the collection.

After hearing the crisp sound of the shutter, John stood up with the spear as a crutch, tried to lift his foot, but his chest was still in sharp pain, and he bent over to the black pearl, like a rickety old man.

"Don't force yourself, John." Streich said from the side.

"Anyway, we have to go back to Coulter Village, and it may be dangerous to stay here any longer."

In this way, the two rode back to the camp one after the other, and due to the exhaustion of his physical strength, John drooped his head on the horse, relying on muscle memory to guide Black Pearl forward, and Streich followed closely behind to prevent John from falling off the horse.

After two hours' journey, they saw smoke rising from the village of Coulter, and the thick snow on the roofs of the houses made the village look like it was one with the snow-capped mountains behind it, as if a heavy snowfall had visited the village not long ago.

Before John could enter the village, Thomas came to greet him.

"John, you didn't come home overnight, did you have an accident?" Thomas looked tired and looked like he hadn't slept all night.

John nodded listlessly, and Thomas, seeing this, also noticed signs of John's injury, so he and Strichie helped John off his horse.

"Where's Mr. Fowler?" John looked up and didn't see the figure that was often loitering.

"Oh, yes." Thomas seemed to remember something, "Last night when the snow was falling, a dark shadow spied on us in the woods, and happened to be spotted by Liam, and he told us to stay, and he and Margaret followed him to see where the guy was coming from, and it seemed that they were far away. ”

John guessed that the shadow was the photographer, and that he might not have left the place for some reason, and if so, John would invite him to the gang and even recruit him as a new member.

"I'm sure they didn't follow him, whoever it was, and I'll find out when Mr. Fowler returns." Thomas said as he brought a stool for John to sit down and rest.

John took out his notebook from his bag, intending to write down the black bear, this defeat of the black bear was one of the few experiences he had had fought against non-humans, especially with photos as proof, and it would be much more intuitive to relive the memories later. There are only two people in John's mind for the readers of this notebook, himself and his son Jason Jr., who, if he makes it home to Reagan County alive, will personally hand over this educational gift to his son, a diary that holds the same place in John's mind as Lange's autobiography.

"Mr. Coster?"

As he was thinking about how to write, John saw Kyle cowering and coming over, a black man who rarely spoke, had a family history of generations of slavery, and was usually silent.

"I saw the skin you got back, and I think it has a knife scratch on it, and it may not sell for a good price at the butcher's shop. I happen to know a little bit about making bags out of animal skins, and I suggest leaving this skin to me and I'll make a tight bag for you. ”

"A bearskin satchel, what a precious thing, how can I repay you?"

"Don't say that, sir, you gave us a chance to survive, Ducky van der Linde saved me from the farmer, and you are the one who really liberated me, these are the things I should do."

"Where there is effort, there should be return, and this is an era of equality and mutual benefit, Kyle."

"I accept your enlightenment, sir, and in return I would like to ask you to help me send a letter to my relatives."

"Do you still have family left in the Great Plains?"

"Yes, my sister, she's still working for white people in Scarlett Meadows."

"Okay, I'll send this letter to the post office someday."

Again, Kyle bowed and folded to John, and John had to keep returning the salute.

"Alas, weal and woe."

John somehow felt that even though the Van der Linde gang was a unit, the members were still more or less in touch with the outside world, and in an age when they were being hunted by Detective Pinkerton, too much interaction could still lead to fire, and proper isolation was necessary, and people's lives were barely carried out in a balanced way.