might have been skill, that produced the result; it was probably a
union of both; but the pigeon whirled over in the air, and fell into
the lake with a broken wing At the sound of his rifle, both his dogs
started from his feet, and in a few minutes the “slut” brought out the
bird, still alive.

The wonderful exploit of Leather-Stocking was noised through the field
with great rapidity, and the sportsmen gathered in, to learn the truth
of the report.

“What” said young Edwards,” have you really killed a pigeon on the
wing, Natty, with a single ball?”

“Haven’t I killed loons before now, lad, that dive at the flash?”
returned the hunter. “It’s much better to kill only such as you want,
without wasting your powder and lead, than to be firing into God’s
creatures in this wicked manner. But I came out for a bird, and you
know the reason why I like small game, Mr. Oliver, and now I have got
one Twill go home, for I don’t relish to see these wasty ways that you
are all practysing, as if the least thing wasn’t made for use, and not
to destroy.”

“Thou sayest well, Leather-Stocking,” cried Marmaduke, “and I begin to
think it time to put an end to this work of destruction.”

“Put an ind, Judge, to your clearings. Ain’t the woods His work as
well as the pigeons? Use, but don’t waste. Wasn’t the woods made for
the beasts and birds to harbor in? and when man wanted their flesh,
their skins, or their feathers, there’s the place to seek them. But
I’ll go to the hut with my own game, for I wouldn’t touch one of the