CHAPTER III.
THE MEETING ON THE BRIDGE.
Jack Gedney walked down the slight descent, and stepping upon the fallen tree, moved to the other bank. As he came up again to the general level, he still looked around for some game, but nothing met his eye.
"There's one thing certain," he added: "I'm not going any farther without shooting off this gun."
A hundred yards ahead he saw the whitish trunk of a spreading beech which grew near the path. A patch of the bark about as big as his hand was stained a darker colour than the rest, as though some object had rubbed against and soiled it. The target was a good one, and he took a quick aim and fired.
"That makes three times that I have tried her," he said, with a glow of pleasure, as he examined the tree and saw the bullet embedded in the centre of the spot, "and she hit the eye every time."
He now walked at a more rapid pace than before, and it was not long before he reached the log cabin of the Burton family. The two or three acres of natural and artificial clearing had been well cultivated, and Mr. Burton and his two boys were busy gathering corn and the produce that yet were left out of doors. Mrs. Burton and Ruth were busy within.
As soon as Jack appeared, Mr. Burton and his boys gathered around him to examine and praise the present, which, it may be said, they saw the moment the owner came in sight.
"To-morrow," said Mr. Burton, "you must come over and go with the boys on a hunt: that will be the best test for your gun."
"I had hopes that Will and George could go with me to-day," remarked Jack, reading aright the wistful looks of his friends.