e ornithologist helped me to
cut it up that night in camp."

"Well done!" exclaimed little Trevor, with enthusiasm, "an' what came o'
the orny-what-d'ye-callum?"

"That's more than I can tell, lad. He went off wi' the b'ar's claws to
show to his friends, an' I never saw him again. But look there, boys,"
continued the trapper in a suddenly lowered tone of voice, while he
threw forward and cocked his rifle, "d'ye see our supper?"

"What? Where?" exclaimed Tolly, in a soft whisper, straining his eyes
in the direction indicated.

The sharp crack of the trapper's rifle immediately followed, and a fine
buck lay prone upon the ground.

"'Twas an easy shot," said Drake, recharging his weapon, "only a man
needs a leetle experience before he can fire down a precipice correctly.
Come along, boys."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

Nothing further worth mentioning occurred to the hunters that day, save
that little Tolly Trevor was amazed--we might almost say petrified--by
the splendour and precision of the trapper's shooting, besides which he
was deeply impressed with the undercurrent of what we may style grave
fun, coupled with calm enthusiasm, which characterised the man, and the
utter absence of self-assertion or boastfulness.

But if the remainder of the day was uneventful, the stories round the
camp-fire more than compensated him and his friend Leaping Buck. The
latter was intimately acquainted with the trapper, and seemed to derive
more pleasure from watching the effect of his anecdotes on his new
friend than in listening to them himself. Probably this was in part
owing to the fact that he had heard them all before more than once.

The spot they had selected for their encampment was the summit of a
projecting crag, which was crowned with a little thicket, and surrounded
on three sides by sheer precipices. The neck of rock by which it was
reached was free from shrubs, besides being split across by a deep chasm
of several feet in width, so that it formed a natural fortress, and the
marks of old encampments seemed to indicate that it had been used as a
camping-place by the red man long before his white brother--too often
his white foe--had appeared in that western wilderness to disturb him.
The Indians had no special name for the spot, but the roving trappers
who first came to it had named it the Outlook, because from its summit a
magnificent view of nearly the whole region could be obtained. The
great chasm or fissure