aking off the momentary feeling of
sadness produced by reflection, as if he were ashamed of it, "if we
don't look `smart,' as our friend Seth says, we won't get a shot all
day; and then, woe betide the larder!"

STORY ONE, CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A CHANCE SHOT.

"Say, what precious fools we all air!" exclaimed Seth Allport all of a
sudden, without any reference to anything they had been speaking about,
when the hunting party stopped a moment to rest after a long and weary
tramp over the seemingly-endless prairie, during which they had not
caught sight of bird or beast worthy of a charge of powder and shot.
"What precious fools we all air!" he repeated with the air of a Solon,
and shaking his head solemnly with portentous gravity.

"Please speak for yourself," said Ernest Wilton jokingly. "Why this
wholesale condemnation of our unfortunate selves? For my part, I should
have thought that we were more to be pitied than blamed for our want of
success."

"Oh, do you?" replied Seth gruffly--albeit he was as good-humoured as
usual. "Then that's all you know about it. Don't you kinder think it
raal smart neow for us to be a wearin' out shoe-leather when we've a
heap o' mules eatin' their heads off and bustin' theirselves in that
shanty o' theirn agin the house for want of work, I reckon?"

"Phew!" whistled Mr Rawlings through his teeth, his face assuming a
mingled expression of surprise and amusement. "I declare I forgot all
about the animals, I suppose because we have not lately had any occasion
for their services. But they are in good condition, I've no doubt, as
they have had literally nothing to do since they helped to carry our
traps here in the fall, while they've fared better than us during the
winter, for though forage has been scarce work has been scarcer, when
our rations had sometimes to be limited. Oh, yes, they are certain to
be filled out by this time, and been well looked after by our friend
Jasper here," nodding kindly towards the negro steward as he spoke, that
worthy having charge of the pack-mules amongst his other manifold duties
as general factotum.

"Iss, Massa Rawlings," interposed Jasper, glad of the opportunity of
joining in the conversation, "dey am prime. Dat obstropolus mule,
Pres'dent Hayes, gib me one good kick in tummick dis marnin' when I'se
feedin' him. Um jest as sassy as dat niggah Josh, iss, massa, and so is
all de oder mules, sah."

"You'd better let your friend, that thaar