“And we could do execution at this distance,” observed Glenn.
“I’d be dead sure to kill one, I know I would,” said Sneak.
“Let me see if I could take aim,” said Joe, deliberately pointing his musket through the loophole. The musket had inadvertently been cocked, and left in that condition, and no sooner did Joe’s finger gently press upon the trigger, than it went off, making an astounding report, and veiling the whole party in an immense cloud of smoke.
“Who did that?” cried Boone, stamping with vexation.
“Was that you, Joe?” demanded Glenn.
Joe made no answer.
“Oh, dod! my mouth’s smashed all to pieces!” said Sneak, crawling up from a prostrate position, caused by the rebound of the musket, for he was looking over Joe’s shoulder when the gun went off.
“Where’s Joe?” inquired Glenn, pushing Sneak aside.
“He’s dead, I guess—I believe the gun’s busted,” said Sneak.
“Now, sir! why did you fire?” cried Glenn, somewhat passionately, stumbling against Joe, and seizing him by the collar. No answer was made, for poor Joe’s neck was limber enough, and he quite insensible.