He knew it belonged to the guide, but was rarely
used by him since he had purchased the 44-calibre Winchester rifle, with
which he could do uncommon feats in shooting.
The shot-gun interested the boy mightily. There was a facsimile of it,
swathed in green baize, stowed away somewhere in his father's house in
Manchester. The first time he had ever used fire-arms was on a memorable
day when his fingers pulled its trigger in his father's garden under
Neal's direction, and a lean starling fell before his shot. After that
he had often taken out a fowling-piece of a newer style, and had done
pretty well with it too.
As he handled the shot-gun, which the guide had bought away back in the
year '55, musing about it under the pines, the thought suddenly tumbled
out of a corner of his brain that at present there was a brilliant
opportunity for him to use the gun and all the shooting skill he
possessed for the benefit of his comrades and himself.
There was no meat in the camp for dinner or supper save the pork on
which they had feasted since they arrived there, and that was fast
giving out.
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