“Bird skins require very different treatment,” continued Oscar. “The greatest pains must be taken with them. As soon as the specimen is killed the throat must be cleaned out and stopped with cotton, to keep the strong acid of the stomach from destroying the small feathers that grow about the base of the bill. It must then be put into a paper funnel shaped like the cornucopias that are sometimes hung on Christmas trees, and in that way it can be carried to camp without the ruffling of a feather. After the skin is taken off and cured it must be smoothly laid out between layers of cotton. If it becomes wrinkled, or the plumage becomes displaced, it is almost impossible to make a good job of it.” “Well, I declare!” said the colonel. “Yours is not so easy a business, after all, is it? I had no idea that there was so much in taxidermy. How long does it take to learn it?” “A lifetime,” answered Oscar. “Then I don’t think I’ll bother with it; my hair is white already, and the span of life that is left to me is so short that I couldn’t master even the rudiments of the science. Now let’s go back to business. The hunters in this country generally travel on foot, and let the ponies carry their supplies; but you will need a light wagon, and a good, strong mule to draw it. Those boots you will find to be very uncomfortable things to wear in this country in winter. A pair of Indian leggings and moccasins, which you can purchase of the sutler, will keep you much warmer,” he added, as Oscar drew out of the trunk first the stock and then the barrel of a heavy Sharp’s rifle and proceeded to put them together. The colonel, who admired a fine weapon as much as he admired a fast horse and a good hunting dog, examined the rifle with the greatest interest, now and then bringing it to his shoulder and taking aim at the different objects about the room. There were but few articles in Oscar’s outfit, and they consisted of two suits of durable clothing, a light rubber coat, a heavy overcoat, which was provided with a hood instead of a cape, a few fish lines, two dozen trout flies, a light axe, a hunting knife with belt and sheath, a frying-pan, some stout sacks in which to stow away his provisions, and lastly a neat little fowling-piece, which, being short in the barrel, and weighing but a trifle over seven pounds, was just the thing for use in thick cover or in the saddle. Every article passed muster except the frying-pan. That, the colonel said, would do well enough for city hunters, but it would take up just so much room in the wagon; and Oscar, before he had spent a month in the hills, would probably throw it away and broil his meat on the coals. “Now what else do I need?” asked Oscar, after the colonel had examined all the articles in his outfit and passed judgment upon them. “I shall want some provisions, of course.”