“What in the wide world did you go and get a big ten bore for, when you’re such a short fellow?” asked Thad, who had often wanted to find out about this particular subject.
Bumpus, who was fondling his new possession, grinned rather sheepishly.
“Well,” he remarked, “you see, Thad’s Marlin, and Davy’s gun are both twelve guage, and I thought we ought to have variety in the crowd, so I got a ducking gun. Besides, I knew it would be better when I came to shoot buckshot in it, just like I’ve got in the chambers right now, ready for any old moose bull that chooses to show up. And in fact, fellows, it was the only sort of shotgun I could buy, unless I took one of them pump guns; and I just couldn’t think of working all that machinery when I get so rattled, you know.”
“Please keep that blunderbuss pointed the other way, Bumpus,” said Step Hen.
“Yes, for goodness’ sake don’t you turn it around here!” called out Giraffe. “If ever you blew a hole in the bottom of this canvas canoe, we’d go down like a stone.”
“I’d be sorry for that,” remarked Bumpus, still fondling his new purchase lovingly, although he kept it pointed ahead, as directed; “because, you see, we’ve got a lot of good grub aboard this canoe, and it might get soaked.”
“Huh! thinking of the grub before you take me into consideration, are you?” grunted Giraffe; and perhaps he might have said more, only just at that instant Eli turned his head and made a remark to him which caused the long-necked boy to lift his head, and then shout out excitedly:
“A bear! A bear! over there on the bank ahead!”
“Oh! where did I put my gun?” almost shrieked Step Hen, who was forever misplacing things, and then finding them again in the most unexpected places.
“Bumpus, knock him over! There’s the best chance to try your new gun you ever saw! Let him have it, you silly!” roared Giraffe.