MIKE FINK, THE KEEL-BOATMAN. ItO 



of his prowess. The scoiu' that he presented was worthy 

 of the time and the man, an<l ^YOuld have thrown Land- 

 seer into a delirium of joy, cnuld he have witnessed it. 

 The boat, owing to the swiftness of the current, passed 

 Mike's resting-place, although it was pulled strongly to 

 the shore. As Mike's companions came opposite to 

 him, they raised a shout, half exultation at meeting 

 him, and half to alarm him with the idea that Joe's 

 friends were upon him. Mike, at the sound, sprang to 

 his feet, rifle in hand, and as he looked around, he 

 raised it to his eyes, and by the time that he discovered 

 the boat, he was ready to fire. 



'' Down with your shooting-iron, you wild critter," 

 shouted one of the boatmen. 



Mike dropped the piece, and gave a loud halloo, which 

 echoed among the solitudes like a piece of artillery. 

 The meeting between Mike and his fellows was charac- 

 teristic. They joked, and jibed him with their rough 

 wit, and he parried it off" with a most creditable inge- 

 nuity. Mike soon learned the extent of his rifle-shot — 

 but he seemed perfectly indifierent to the fact that 

 Proud Joe was not dead. 



The only sentiment he uttered, was regret that he 

 did not fire at the vagabond's head, for if he hadn't hit 

 it, why, he said that he would have made the first bad 

 shot in twenty years. The dead game was carried on 

 board of the boat, the adventure was forgotten, and 

 every thing resumed the monotony of floating in a flat- 

 boat down the Ohio. 



