properly.

"Now don't pull un with a jerk. Hold your breath and squeeze the trigger
hand together all at once, so she goes off almost without your knowin'
when she goes."

Charley proved himself an apt pupil, and after a few shots rarely missed
the target.

Skipper Zeb did not return to the tilt for dinner, and after the boys
had eaten Toby suggested that they stroll up the lake shore in the hope
that they might get a shot at some partridges.

"May I carry your rifle and try to shoot them if we see any?" asked
Charley eagerly.

"Aye," agreed Toby, "'twill be fine for you to try un, now you knows how
to shoot."

Charley took the rifle eagerly, and this time took the lead, as the
hunter. They had walked but a short distance when Toby whispered:

"Drop quick!"

"What is it?" whispered Charley, as both dropped to the ground and Toby
crawled up beside him.

"Deer!" whispered Toby. "See un! Right ahead!"

Then for the first time Charley saw a big caribou, nosing in the snow
and feeding leisurely.

"What'll I do?" asked Charley.

"'Tis a fine shot!" answered Toby. "Be wonderful careful o' your aim,
and shoot!"

Charley was all atremble as he brought the rifle to his shoulder for his
first shot at any game. In spite of all he could do, the muzzle of the
rifle would not behave, and before he was aware of it he pulled the
trigger, and the shot went wild.

"Try un again! Try un again before he runs!" plead Toby.

Charley fired again and then again, but with no better success, and the
caribou, now taking alarm, turned and disappeared into the forest.

"You misses that un," said Toby, not in the least perturbed, now that
the caribou had gone. "'Tis hard to hit un the first time you tries."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" and Charley could scarce control his voice in
excitement and disappointment. "It was nearer than the target we shot
at! How _could_ I miss it?"

"You gets nervous the first time you tries, the way most folks does,"
soothed Toby. "Next time you'll get un."

It was Thursday evening of the following week when they again reached
the tilt at Black River and the boat. Both boys were tired but happy,
and Charley, who had shot his first partridge with Toby's rifle that
morning, told Skipper Zeb that he had had the best time he ever had in
all his life.

"That's the way to talk, lad! That's the way!" and Skipper Zeb slapped
him on the shoulder, his characteristic method of expressing approval.
"You has the