With Axe and Rifle

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“You have done me a service, friend; for that animal showed more fight than I expected, and might have injured me severely had not your shot taken effect, though it narrowly missed my head, I suspect.”

“Very glad to have been of use to you, but here’s the person you should thank,” said the Dominie, pointing to me.

“I confess that it would have been more prudent not to have fired, for fear of hitting you,” I answered as he shook me by the hand.

“Though it was a risk, I am equally thankful. The shot was well aimed, and you have the right to the venison, my young friend,” he said, looking at me.

We told him that we had no wish to deprive him of it, but he insisted that the deer should be ours. We settled the point, however, by making him take a haunch, which was all he would accept.

We now sent off Dio to bring up the horses, that we might load them with the meat: we in the meantime set to work to flay and cut up the animals, assisted by the stranger.

“You will come to our camp and pass the night with us,” said the Dominie as we were thus engaged.

To our surprise the stranger declined our invitation.

“I should prove but a poor companion, for I have been too long accustomed to live by myself to have any desire to join the society of my fellows,” he answered, turning aside; “if I find that you are exposed to danger from the redskins, I will give you warning, and may be of assistance in enabling you to escape from them.”

We in vain pressed him to alter his decision. He waited until the horses arrived, and having assisted us in packing the meat, took his own share, put up in a piece of skin, and after bidding us farewell went off in an opposite direction to our camp. We had forgotten to mention the mark of the moccasin we had seen in the morning, but we had little doubt that the stranger had gone over the ground, and our apprehensions of Indians being in the neighbourhood were dispelled. We, however, kept as usual a strict watch at night. As our camp was placed in the recesses of the wood, we knew that our fire could not be perceived at any distance beyond it.