I had a most excellent
fowling-piece; so they said. It began its career in the French war, and
was a very veteran in service. Besides this ancient and honorable
weapon, I was provided with all the means and appliances necessary for
successful hunting. I was "armed and equipped as the law directs," to
employ the words of those semi-annual documents that used to summon me
to training.
Well, it was some time before we--Rover and I--started any game.
Wind-mills were scarce. For one, I began to fear we should have to
return without any adventure to call forth our skill and courage. But
the brightest time is just before day, and so it was in this instance.
Rover began presently to bark, and I heard a slight rustling among the
leaves in the woods. Sure enough, there was visible a large animal of
some kind, though I could not determine precisely what it was, on
account of the underbrush. However, I satisfied myself it was rare game,
at any rate; and that point being settled, I took aim and fired.
Rover immediately ran to the poor victim. He was a courageous fellow,
that Rover, especially after the danger was over. Many a time I have
known him make demonstrations as fierce as a tiger when people rode by
our house, though he generally took care not to insult them until they
were at a convenient distance. Rover had no notion of being killed,
knowing very well that if he were dead, he could be of no farther
service whatever to the world.
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