be; when Riley observed,--

"I suppose you had--"

"Melted the deer-fat which I had stuck in the breast of my
hunting-shirt, and the grease was running down my leg until my feet got
so greasy that my heavy boots flew off, and one, hitting the dog, nearly
knocked his brains out."

We all grinned, which the "member" noticing, observed,--

"I hope, gentlemen, no man here will presume to think I'm exaggerating?"

"Oh, certainly not! Go on, Mr. ----," we all chimed in.

"Well, the ground under my feet was soft, and, being relieved of my
heavy boots, I put off with double-quick time, and, seeing the creek
about half a mile off, I ventured to look over my shoulder to see what
kind of chance there was to hold up and load. The red-skin was coming
jogging along, pretty well blowed out, about five hundred yards in the
rear. Thinks I, 'Here goes to load, anyhow.' So at it I went: in went
the powder, and, putting on my patch, down went the ball about half-way,
and off snapped my ramrod!"

"Thunder and lightning!" shouted the old woodsman, who was worked up to
the top-notch in the "member's" story.

"Good gracious! wasn't I in a pickle! There was the red whelp within two
hundred yards of me, pacing along and _loading up his rifle as he came_!
I jerked out the broken ramrod, dashed it away, and started on, priming