moccasined, carried a long and heavy rifle, which, as he was loading it,
he said had proved efficient in all his former undertakings, and which
he hoped would not fail on this occasion, as he felt proud to show me
his skill. The gun was wiped, the powder measured, the ball patched with
six-hundred-thread linen, and the charge sent home with a hickory rod.
We moved not a step from the place, for the squirrels were so numerous
that it was unnecessary to go after them. Boone pointed to one of these
animals which had observed us, and was crouched on a branch about fifty
paces distant, and bade me mark well the spot where the ball should hit.
He raised his piece gradually, until the _bead_ (that being the name
given by the Kentuckians to the _sight_) of the barrel was brought to
a line with the spot which he intended to hit. The whip-like report
resounded through the woods and along the hills in repeated echoes.
Judge of my surprise, when I perceived that the ball had hit the piece
of the bark immediately beneath the squirrel, and shivered it into
splinters, the concussion produced by which had killed the animal, and
sent it whirling through the air, as if it had been blown up by the
explosion of a powder magazine. Boone kept up his firing, and before
many hours had elapsed, we had procured as many squirrels as we wished;
for you must know that to load a rifle requires only a moment, and that
if it is wiped once after each shot, it will do duty for hours. Since
that first interview with our veteran Boone, I have seen many other
individuals perform the same feat."

[Footnote 14: Peck. Life of Boone.]

[Footnote 15: McClung. "Western Adventures."]

[Footnote 16: Ornithological Biography, pp. 293-4.]