him reason to believe that he was correct in his surmises.

In half-an-hour they came within range, and Fred, after debating with
himself for some time as to the propriety of taking the first shot,
triumphed over himself, and stepping back a pace, motioned to the
Esquimau to fire. But Meetuck was an innate gentleman, and modestly
declined; so Fred advanced, took a good aim, and fired.

The deer bounded away, but stumbled as it went, showing that it was
wounded.

"Ha! ha! Meetuck," exclaimed Fred, as he recharged in tremendous
excitement (taking twice as long to load in consequence), "I've improved
a little, you see, in my shoot--oh bother this--ramrod!--tut! tut!
there, that's it."

Bang went Meetuck's musket at that moment, and the deer tumbled over
upon the snow.

"Well done, old fellow!" cried Fred, springing forward. At the same
instant a white hare darted across his path, at which he fired, without
even putting the gun to his shoulder, and knocked it over, to his own
intense amazement.

The three shots were the signal for the men to come up with the sledge,
which they did at full gallop, O'Riley driving, and flourishing the long
whip about in a way that soon entangled it hopelessly with the dogs'
traces.

"Ah, then, ye've done it this time, ye have, sure enough. Musha! what a