"No, only once, and that not parfetly. Brought 'em all down at one
shot--rifle, Fan, an' pup!"

"Well, well, now that was cliver; but--." Here the old woman paused
and looked grave.

"But what, mother?"

"You'll be wantin' to go off to the mountains now, I fear me, boy."

"Wantin' _now_!" exclaimed the youth earnestly; "I'm _always_ wantin'.
I've bin wantin' ever since I could walk; but I won't go till you let
me, mother, that I won't!" And he struck the table with his fist so
forcibly that the platters rung again.

"You're a good boy, Dick; but you're too young yit to ventur' among
the Redskins."

"An' yit, if I don't ventur' young, I'd better not ventur' at all. You
know, mother dear, I don't want to leave you; but I was born to be a
hunter, and everybody in them parts is a hunter, and I can't hunt in
the kitchen you know, mother!"

At this point the conversation was interrupted by a sound that caused
young Varley to spring up and seize his rifle, and Fan to show her
teeth and growl.

"Hist, mother! that's like horses' hoofs," he whispered, opening the
door and gazing intently in the direction whence the sound came.