ion should drift into abstruse subjects.

"Ay, ay, lad, I'm comin' to him," replied the trapper, with the humorous
twinkle that seemed to hover always about the corners of his eyes, ready
for instant development. "Well, you must know, this was the way of it--
and it do make me larf yet when I think o' the face o' that
spider-legged critter goin' at the rate of twenty miles an hour or
thereabouts wi' that most awful-lookin' grizzly b'ar peltin' after
him.--Hist! Look there, Tolly. A chance for your popgun."

The trapper pointed as he spoke to a flock of wild duck that was coming
straight towards the spot on which they sat. The "popgun" to which he
referred was one of the smooth-bore flint-lock single-barrelled
fowling-pieces which traders were in the habit of supplying to the
natives at that time, and which Unaco had lent to the boy for the day,
with his powder-horn and ornamented shot-pouch.

For the three hunters to drop behind the bank on which they had been
sitting was the work of a moment.

Young though he was, Tolly had already become a fair and ready shot. He
selected the largest bird in the flock, covered it with a deadly aim,
and pulled the trigger. But the click of the lock was not followed by
an explosion as the birds whirred swiftly on.

"Ah! my boy," observed the trapper, taking the gun quietly from the
boy's hand and proceeding to chip the edge of the flint, "you should
never go a-huntin' without seein' that your flint is properly fixed."

"But I did see to it," replied Tolly, in a disappointed tone, "and it
struck fire splendidly when I tried it before startin'."

"True, boy, but the thing is worn too short, an' though its edge is
pretty well, you didn't screw it firm enough, so it got drove back a bit
and the hammer-head, as well as the flint, strikes the steel, d'ye see?
There now, prime it again, an' be sure ye wipe the pan before puttin' in
the powder. It's not worth while to be disap'inted about so small a
matter. You'll git plenty more chances. See, there's another flock
comin'. Don't hurry, lad. If ye want to be a good hunter always keep
cool, an' take time. Better lose a chance than hurry. A chance lost
you see, is only a chance lost, but blazin' in a hurry is a bad lesson
that ye've got to unlarn."

The trapper's advice was cut short by the report of Tolly's gun, and
next moment a fat duck, striking the ground in front of them, rolled
fluttering to their feet.

"Not badly do