"Sartainly! Does anybody, I wonder, expect to do any thing with a
shot-gun in sich a place as this?"

"Mine's a shot-gun," said Joe.

"Dod--did you ever kill any thing better than a quail with it?"
inquired Sneak, contemptuously.

"I never killed any thing in my life with it--I never shot a gun in
all my life before to-night," said Joe.

"Dod, you haven't fired it to-night, to my sartain knowledge."

"I mean I never went a shooting."

"Did you load her yourself?" inquired Sneak, taking hold of the musket
and feeling the calibre.

"Yes--but I'm sure I did it right. I put in a handful of powder, and
paper on top of it, and then poured in a handful of balls," said Joe.

"Ha! ha! ha! I'll be busted if you don't raise a fuss if you ever get
a shot at the bar!" said Sneak, with emphasis.

"That's what I am after."

"Why don't you go ahead?" demanded Sneak, as Joe's pony stopped
suddenly, with his ears thrust forward. "Dod! whip him up," continued
he, seeing that his companion was intently gazing at some object