GEORGE W. S1MPKINS. 73 



hand and pour on powder enough to cover it, and that's 

 the proper load. Then you put the powder in the rifle 

 and lay a greased patch over the muzzle, put the bullet on 

 the patch and force it down, way down, until it is home 

 and the ramrod bounds on it. The rod won't bounce if 

 the bullet isn't home." This was to give him further 

 proof that I knew enough about a rifle to use one. Would 

 he ever take the hint? 



"I've killed eleven deer with this gun," said he, "and 

 I haven't had it two years. Killed all but one with the 

 rifle barrel. That one was close by, not over thirty yards 

 off, and I missed it clean with the rifle; the bullet may 

 have touched a twig and gone off somewhere else, for the 

 deer stood broadside to and didn't see me. He jumped 

 at the shot, but I fetched him with buckshot in the other 

 barrel. Ever see a deer?" 



"Not a live one; only stuffed ones, in the museum; but 

 I would like to see a real live deer in the woods, jumping 

 as they do in pictures." There! that was a distinct bid 

 for an invitation. If it didn't come after that he was a 

 stupid, or did not want me. He put the gun aside, rilled 

 his powder horn, spent much time with other things, and 

 then slowly said: 



"How would you like to go along?" 

 "Oh, Mr. Simpkins! you don't mean it! I would be in 

 the way, I fear." 



"No, you can go if you like; I'll go up the hill to Kel- 

 lam's and borrow a rifle for you; he has three, and you can 

 practise with it this afternoon, and we'll get an early start 

 in the morning." 



My rifle shooting that afternoon did not break all rec- 

 ords, unless for bad off-hand shooting; but who could do 

 good shooting when all a-tremble from head to foot? The 

 fact that many monstrous bucks were killed in bed that 



