BORDER LIFE IN THE WEST. 225 



bore. I like to ' rough, it' for my part." Turning quickly 

 to my red-haired host I said, 



" You all hunt of course bold boys like you ?" 



" Ye-e-es, we all hunts in course." 



" You have a fine-looking, old-fashioned, long-barreled 

 rifle up there over the door, I perceive !" and before any of 

 them had time to think, I staggered roughly through them, 

 and had the rifle down from its buck-horn hooks. Its mas 

 sive barrel was a terrible weapon, even if unloaded, for I 

 had marked it from the first, and it was its possession I hau 

 been coveting, though altogether uncertain as to its being 

 charged. 



This movement had been so unexpected, that they were 

 entirely unprepared for it, and I had time to cock the rifle, 

 and with a thrill of ungovernable joy, perceived that it was 

 freshly capped. 



The muzzle had been instantly brought down to the " pre- 

 sent," as I placed my back against the corner of the cabin. 

 There had been a slight movement among them, as if for a 

 simultaneous rush upon me. It was only a scarcely percep- 

 tible wave but that wave fell back before the formidable 

 muzzle which stared them in the face with its one dark, un- 

 fathomable orb. 



" Ah ! I see it is loaded a fine rifle no doubt ! I love 

 rifles, and, Mr. Host, I shall take the liberty of examining 

 this for awhile !" and I walked through them as they stood 

 gaping at me in mute astonishment, and took a seat near my 

 sleeping friend. 



The tables were now effectually changed, and as I sat 

 down on one of the trunks of H , I felt it to be unneces- 

 sary longer to counterfeit drunkenness, for I had earned ex- 

 perience enough of ruffians already to understand that they 

 were all cowards, and incapable, unless armed with similar 

 weapons, and in overpowering numbers, of facing a resolute 

 man with a loaded fire-arm. I had possessed myself, by a 

 coup de main, of the weapon of my villainous, inhospitable 



15 



