348 
WK KEACH THE VILLAGE. 
After all tins he went on to inform us that he should 
he perfectly contented when he should become possessed 
of so much powder; that it would certainly last him to 
his grave, and that when it was gone he would be willing 
to die. He never fired more than once at a deer, he said ; 
and, thi’owing himself on the ground flat on his face, he 
planted his forked rest firmly, showed us how he called 
the deer toward him, how he took aim, motioned us to 
imagine him covered with bushes so that he could not be 
seen, and, having satisfied us fully on all these points, 
recovered his feet with the agility of a monkey, and fol- 
lowed us as we walked toward the village. 
As Ave approached this latter, a number of shaggy dogs 
barked and howled at us as they retreated behind the 
piles of earth Avhich we had justly taken to be the houses ; 
and Avc were expecting to see crowds of women and chil- 
dren alarmed by said barking and coming out to see 
‘‘what the row was,” when our friend of the smooth-bore 
flint-rifle suddenly opened a door and motioned us to 
enter. It was a long, dark, and narrow archway, down 
which we peered as the door was opened ; and a greasy 
smell of Avhalc-blubber, half-cured fish, &c. that broke 
upon our noses, combined with the dim light of a murky 
fire in a distant apartment at its end, took away every 
thing that might liave been pleasant in the prospect of 
resting our wearied limbs in a wai’in atmosphere. And, 
as we “hang back” at that door and look in one another’s 
faces, as much as to ask, Shall we brave that odour? 
let me give the reader an idea of the outer appearance of 
those singular habitations. 
They resembled the half of a long-necked gourd, — one 
