"'Tis easy," assured Toby. "I'll be showin' you how, and you'll be learnin' quick."
Before they left the tilt Toby instructed Charley in how to fill the magazine and how to manipulate the lever, impressing all the time upon his pupil the necessity of caution, and telling tales of two or three of his acquaintances who had been shot through the careless handling of firearms.
When Charley had learned the rudiments of gun handling to Toby's satisfaction, they went a little way down the lake shore, and selecting a bank as a background, in order, Toby told Charley, that bullets that missed the mark might not go crashing through the forest, but would be buried in the earth, he fastened a small square of white birchbark upon a spruce tree, to serve as a target, and retired with Charley to a distance of about fifty yards from it.
"Now try a shot," Toby directed.
"How do you hold the rifle steady?" asked Charley who found the muzzle wabbling woefully.
Toby, with much patience, illustrated the method of placing the feet, the position in which to stand, how to hold the arm, and how to aim properly.
"Now don't pull un with a jerk. Hold your breath and squeeze the trigger hand together all at once, so she goes off almost without your knowin' when she goes."
Charley proved himself an apt pupil, and after a few shots rarely missed the target.
Skipper Zeb did not return to the tilt for dinner, and after the boys had eaten Toby suggested that they stroll up the lake shore in the hope that they might get a shot at some partridges.
"May I carry your rifle and try to shoot them if we see any?" asked Charley eagerly.