thinly coating the bows with some varnish found among the paint
supplies.

"Makes my old bow look purty sick," remarked Sam, as he held up the
really fine new weapon in contrast with the wretched little hoop that
had embodied his early ideas. "Now what do you know about arrers,
mister?" as he tried his old arrow in the new bow.

"I know that that's no good," was the reply; "an' I can tell you that
it's a deal harder to make an arrow than a bow--that is, a good one."

"That's encouraging, considering the trouble we've had already."

"'Tisn't meant to be, but we ought to have a dozen arrows each."

"How do the Injuns make them?"

"Mostly they get straight sticks of the Arrow-wood; but I haven't seen
any Arrow-wood here, and they're not so awfully straight. You see, an
arrow must be straight or it'll fly crooked. 'Straight as an arrow'
means the thing itself. We can do better than the Indians 'cause we
have better tools. We can split them out of the solid wood."

"What wood? Some bloomin' foreign kind that no White-man never saw nor
heard of before?"

"No sir-ree. There ain't anything better 'n White Pine for target and
Ash or Hickory for hunting arrows. Which are we making?"

"I'm a hunter. Give me huntin' arrows every time. What's needed next?"