practice more with your rifle,” said Joseph Morris, to the cabin owner. “A pound or two spent on powder and ball is often well invested. Dave, here, I am proud to say, can shoot almost as well as myself, and so can my own boys at home.”

“I will take the advice,” answered Uriah Risley. “For such deer meat as this is certainly worth some shillings, not to speak of the worth of the hide.”

The game was brought up to the house, and by the light of a pitch pine torch, the Morrises skinned it and then turned the carcass over to the Risleys.

“Don’t leave it outside,” said Joseph Morris. “This is the night for wolves to be around, and they will make short work of the meat if once they get at it.” And the meat was hung up at the roof of a cattle shed adjoining the cabin.

The Risley homestead boasted of but two rooms, the living apartment and a small bedroom. Under such conditions there was nothing for Dave and his uncle to do but to wrap themselves in their blankets and make themselves comfortable before the kitchen fire. But this was no new experience for them and Dave slept as soundly as though in his corded bed at home. Once during the night he heard the wolves at the cattle shed, but they soon went off disappointed, and did not return.

The Morrises expected to make an early start, but Mrs. Risley would not hear of their leaving without a substantial breakfast and they had to sit down while she made them some pancakes and broiled a fish her husband had caught in the brook the day before. To these were added some blackberry jam and some coffee. 
The Englishman apologized that he could not offer his visitors any ale.

“I miss my measure for meals sadly,” he observed. “But we have none in the wood and no pot-house handy, so I have to rest content without it.”

“Water is good enough for me,” answered Joseph Morris. “I care for no liquor, saving it be a hot toddy when I have been in the wet and cold and am afraid of taking sick.”

The day was bright and the weather warmer than it had been, and Mr. Morris and Dave rode off in the best of spirits, the Risleys watching them until a bend in the trail hid them from view. To the Risleys the visit was an event to be remembered. Perhaps no other white person would visit the lonely cabin for weeks and perhaps not even a red man would cross the threshold.

As the Morrises approached Winchester the cabins of the 

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