“No.”
“Then I’m not afraid,” I said.
He liked my confidence in his word, and nodded approval.
Just then the man with us took up one of the guns to load it, but my uncle stopped him.
“No,” he said; “let him load for himself. Look, Nat, this is one of the Patent breech-loading rifles. I pull this lever and the breech of the gun opens so that I can put in this little roll, which is a cartridge—do you see?”
“Yes, uncle.”
“Now I close it, and the rifle is ready to fire. Next I reopen, take out the cartridge, and close again. Try if you can do the same.”
I took the rifle, and, with the exception of being too hurried and excited, did nearly as my uncle had done.
“Now, my boy,” he said, “the piece is loaded, and a loaded gun or rifle is a very dangerous thing. Never play with your piece; never trifle in any way; never let your barrel be pointed at those who are with you. Remember those bits of advice.”
“Yes, uncle.”