d by the hunter. He was full of aches
and pains when he attempted to walk, and more than once was compelled
to halt to ease his bruised limbs.

As he painfully made his way back to the camp he did a vast deal of
cogitation. When in extreme pain of body, produced by a mishap
intentionally conceived by another, it is but following the natural
law of cause and effect to feel a certain degree of exasperation
toward the evil-doer; and, as the Irishman at every step experienced a
sharp twinge that ofttimes made him cry out, his ejaculations were
neither conceived in charity nor uttered in good-will toward all men.
Still, he pondered deeply upon what the hunter had said, and was
perplexed to know what could possibly be its meaning.

The simple nature of the Irishman was unable to fathom the mystery. He
could not have believed even had Harvey Richter himself confessed to
having perpetrated a crime or a wrong, that the minister had been
guilty of anything sufficient to give cause of enmity. The strange
hunter whom they had unexpectedly encountered several times, must be
some crack-brained adventurer, the victim of a fancied wrong, who,
most likely, had mistaken Harvey Richter for another person.

What could be the object in firing at the missionary, yet taking pains
that no harm should be inflicted? That was another impenetrable
mystery; but, let it be comprehensible or not, the wrathful servitor
inwardly vowed that, if the man crossed the path of himself or his
master again, and the opportunity offered, he should shoot him down as
he would a wild animal.

In the midst of his absorbing reverie, Teddy suddenly paused and
looked around him. He was lost. Shrewd enough to understand that to
attempt to extricate himself would only lead into a greater
entanglement, from which it might not be possible to escape at all, he
wisely concluded to remain where he was until daylight. Gathering a
few twigs and leaves, with his well-stored "punk-box" he soon started
a small fire, by the light of which he collected a sufficient quantity
of fuel to last until morning.

Few scenes of nature are more impressive than a forest at night. That
low deep roar, born of silence itself--the sad sighing of the
wind--the tall, column-like trunks, resembling huge sentinels keeping
guard over the mysteries of ages--the silent sea of foliage overhead,
that seems to shut in a world of its own--all have an influence,
peculiar, irresistible and sublime.

Th