the miss-fire was greeted. The touch-hole was pricked, and next
time the ball sped to its mark. It hit the target two inches above the
bull's-eye.

The "well done" with which the shot was hailed was cut short by an
appalling yell, and little Tony was seen to tumble from behind the
target. Rolling head over heels, he curled himself round in agony,
sprang up with a spasmodic bound, dropped upon his haunches, turned over
a complete somersault, fell on his back with a fearful shriek, and lay
dead upon the snow!

The whole party rushed in consternation towards the boy, but before they
had reached him he leaped up and burst into a fit of gleeful laughter,
which ended in a cheer and a savage war-whoop as he scampered up the
track which led to the house, and disappeared over the brow of the
river's bank.

"The imp was joking!" exclaimed Mr Ravenshaw, as he stopped and wiped
the cold perspiration from his brow.

At that moment a Red Indian appeared on the scene, in his blanket robe,
paint, and feathers. Attracted by the shot, he had come to look on.
Now, the old fur-trader's nerves had received a tremendous shock, and
the practical jest which the pride of his heart had perpetrated had
roused the irascibility of his nature, so that an explosion became
unavoidable. In these circumstances the arrival of the Indian seemed
opportune, for the old gentleman knew that this particular savage was a
chief, and had visited the colony for the purpose of making inquiries
into the new religion reported to be taught by certain white men in
black garments; and Mr Ravenshaw, besides having very little regard for
missionaries, had a very strong contempt for those Indians who became
their disciples. He therefore relieved himself on the red man.

"What do you want here, Petawanaquat?" he demanded sternly, in the
language of the Indian.

"The Little Wolf," replied the Indian, referring to himself, for such
was the interpretation of his name, "wishes to see how his white
brothers shoot."

"Let the Little Wolf put his tail between his legs and be gone," cried
the angry old man. "He is not wanted here. Come, be off!"

The chief looked straight in the eyes of the trader with a dark scowl,
then, turning slowly on his heel, stalked solemnly away.

There was an irrepressible laugh at this episode as the group of
marksmen returned to their former position. Mr Ravenshaw, however,
soon left them and returned home. Here he found Miss Trim