DUCK-SHOOTING CURLY THE SETTLER. 93 



ducks swimming quietly on the other side of a thick 

 bush ; a fallen tree stretching out into the lake, seemed 

 to offer a good bridge to approach them by. When I 

 got to the end of it, and was about sixty yards from the 

 birds, I raised the heavy old musket to take aim, but 

 knowing how old kill-devil kicked, I leant as far for- 

 ward as possible, with the firm conviction that the recoil 

 would drive me back on the tree. Three ducks were 

 swimming in a line, and thinking this a good chance, I 

 pulled the trigger, leaning, if possible, still further for- 

 ward in the act; but it only snapped, the expected recoil 

 failed, and I fell head over heels into the lake. I had 

 some trouble in getting back again to the shore, and 

 never saw ducks or musket again." 



The sky seemed to promise a continuance of fine 

 weather, and as there was no prospect at present of 

 Slowtrap's visit to the mountains, I resolved to take a 

 little shooting excursion alone. The shooting on the 

 north of the river was not so good as on the south, as 

 there were fewer settlements ; so I determined to cross 

 over, and try my luck. A young man of the name of 

 Curly, lived close to the south bank ; he was certainly 

 strongly suspected of horse-stealing, but in other respects 

 was a good fellow, and a capital sportsman ; his little 

 weakness respecting horse-flesh was a matter of indiffer- 

 ence to me, he could not steal any of mine, so I went to 

 the river and hailed, when he soon brought his canoe 

 and carried me across. 



He was easily persuaded to accompany me for a few 

 days, first requesting time to prepare some provisions. 

 He lived in a small block-house, close to the river, sur- 



