IN THE OLD WEST 217 



fire, the younger dismounting, and staring with 

 wonder at the weather-beaten trappers. 



" Well, my men, how are you ? " he rattled out. 

 "Any game here? By Jove!" he suddenly ex- 

 claimed, seizing his rifle, as at that moment a 

 large buzzard, the most unclean of birds, flew into 

 the topmost branch of a cottonwood, and sat, a 

 tempting shot. " By Jove, there's a chance ! " 

 cried the mighty hunter ; and, bending low, started 

 off to approach the unwary bird in the most ap- 

 proved fashion of northern deer-stalkers. The 

 buzzard sat quietly, and now and then stretched 

 its neck to gaze upon the advancing sportsman, 

 who on such occasions threw himself flat on the 

 ground, and remained, motionless, in dread o'f 

 alarming the bird. It was worth while to look at 

 the countenance of old Killbuck, as he watched 

 the antics of the " bourgeois " hunter. He 

 thought at first that the dandy rifleman had really 

 discovered game in the bottom, and was nothing 

 loath that there was a chance of his seeing meat; 

 but when he understood the object of such ma- 

 neuvers, and saw the quarry the hunter was so care- 

 fully approaching, his mouth grinned from ear to 

 ear, and, turning to La Bonte, he said, " Wagh ! 

 he's some he is ! " 



Nothing doubting, however, the stranger ap- 

 proached the tree on which the bird was sitting, 

 and, getting well under it, raised his rifle and 

 fired. Down tumbled the bird ; and the successful 



