"Unload the gun before climbing over fences, walls, and fallen trees, or entering thickets, or rough or slippery ground." "Good," said Mr. Bradford. "That is a rule which is often disregarded, and neglect of it has caused many accidents. You won't find any fences here, but there will be plenty of rough ground and fallen timber. The fourth rule, Roly." "Let me see," said Roly, biting his lip with vexation as he tried in vain to recall it. "Oh, yes! I remember it now. Wherever possible, keep the hammers at half-cock." "Now," said Mr. Bradford, "if you will bear those few rules in mind, you need not trouble yourselves about any others at present. Get your snow-shoes and guns and a few cartridges, and I'll be ready when you are." The boys started off with high anticipations a few minutes later, led by the Indian, and followed by their father. They all wore snow-shoes, for in the forest back of the camp, where the snow had not alternately frozen and thawed as it had in the open valley, there was very little crust over the deep drifts. They wound in and out among the spruces, the Indian carefully examining the snow for tracks as he shuffled lightly along at a pace which the others could keep only with the greatest exertion, for their snow-shoes were heavier and wider than his, and they were not yet skilled. They had not gone a quarter of a mile when Long Peter paused at a fresh track which crossed their course at right angles, and led toward a little gully where there were several young spruce-trees with thick branches. "Good," said he, and immediately started on the animal's trail. Roly became excited at once, and in swerving to the left to follow the Indian, he forgot to manage his snow-shoes with the care that is necessary, stepping upon his left snow-shoe with the right one, so that he could not raise the left foot for the next step. In an instant, carried forward by his own momentum, he plunged head-first into the soft, white, yielding drift, which closed over his head and shoulders. David, who was close behind, struggled in vain to choke a peal of laughter, and was thankful that Roly was not likely to hear it with his head in the snow. Long Peter, who had no scruples, laughed long after Roly had emerged. They all rushed to aid the struggling youngster, who was so hampered by the big shoes that there seemed no possibility of his regaining his feet until they were disencumbered. David, after warning his brother not to kick, quickly loosened the moose-hide thongs and removed the snow-shoes, which done, the fallen youth picked himself up, and brushed the snow out of his eyes, mouth, and neck. "Whew!" he sputtered; "how did I happen to do that?" "You turned the corner with the wrong foot," said his father. "Where's your gun?" The gun was nowhere to be seen until Long Peter fished it up out of the snow, where it had fallen underneath its owner. "Is it loaded?" asked Mr. Bradford.