176 BOONEVILLK TO SAKATOC-A, 



turned that evciiiuii- to camp, lull of the iulluences gathered 

 on the heights out of the heavens around us and from the 

 beautiful forest beneath. And although more than two hmi- 

 di-ed years of ancestral Puritan blue blood and teachings How 

 in my veins and conscience, and the venerated past lifts a 

 very conspicuous finger of warning as to any infringement of 

 Sunday sanctities, I am bold to declare that I went to bed 

 that night and slept without a troubled dream from Puritan 

 ancestor or from any otlier source. 



Monday, while John was doing up the morning's domes- 

 tic work, the boy and I struck a bonanza in a pile of empty 

 fruit-cans, left by some former occupants of our sylvan 

 home. These we tossed into the water, and as they floated 

 away before the breeze we practiced on them our skill in 

 rifle-shooting. The "Punning Deer'' at Crecdmoor may 

 be all very well in its w^ay, but give me, for a little exliila- 

 rating sport, rifle-shooting at empty tin-cans floating out 

 from shore, dancing on the waves, and scudding before the 

 wind. "A hit ! a palpable hit !" is indeed palpal)le, for 

 if 3'ou are a good marksman, your tin v^essel sinks like an 

 iron-clad, when it is bored through and through. The 

 staid and " much-experienced" John was happy to take 

 half a dozen shots with us, and enjoyed demolishing a tin- 

 can with as mucli delight as Ned himself. 



Then we went to " the marsh, " where, with the fl}^ 1 took 

 thirty-eight trout in about tw^o hours. Of course, I lost my 

 " biggest fish " — every body does ; but any ])ig fish knows 

 how, in a small pool surrounded by lily-pads, to get most 

 completely lost. 



