ne, Tolly," said the trapper, with a nod, as he reseated
himself on the bank, while Leaping Buck picked up the bird, which was by
that time dead, and the young sportsman recharged his gun; "just a
leetle too hurried. If you had taken only half a second more time to
put the gun to your shoulder, you'd have brought the bird to the ground
dead; and you boys can't larn too soon that you should never give
needless pain to critters that you've got to kill. You must shoot, of
course, or you'd starve; but always make sure of killin' at once, an'
the only way to do that is to keep cool an' take time. You see, it
ain't the aim you take that matters so much, as the coolness an'
steadiness with which ye put the gun to your shoulder. If you only do
that steadily an' without hurry, the gun is sure to p'int straight
for'ard an' the aim'll look arter itself. Nevertheless, it was smartly
done, lad, for it's a difficult shot when a wild duck comes straight for
your head like a cannon-ball."

"But what about the ornithologist;" said Tolly, who, albeit well pleased
at the trapper's complimentary remarks, did not quite relish his
criticism.

"Yes, yes; I'm comin' to that. Well, as I was sayin', it makes me larf
yet, when I thinks on it. How he did run, to be sure! Greased
lightnin' could scarce have kep' up wi' him."

"But where was he a-runnin' to, an' why?" asked little Trevor,
impatiently.

"Now, you leetle boy," said Drake, with a look of grave remonstrance,
"don't you go an' git impatient. Patience is one o' the backwoods
vartues, without which you'll never git on at all. If you don't
cultivate patience you may as well go an' live in the settlements or the
big cities--where it don't much matter what a man is--but it'll be no
use to stop in the wilderness. There's Leapin' Buck, now, a-sittin' as
quiet as a Redskin warrior on guard! Take a lesson from him, lad, an'
restrain yourself. Well, as I was goin' to say, I was out settin' my
traps somewheres about the head-waters o' the Yellowstone river at the
time when I fell in wi' the critter. I couldn't rightly make out what
he was, for, though I've seed mostly all sorts o' men in my day, I'd
never met in wi' one o' this sort before. It wasn't his bodily shape
that puzzled me, though that was queer enough, but his occupation that
staggered me. He was a long, thin, spider-shaped article that seemed to
have run to seed--all stalk with a frowsy top, for his hair was long an'