“Then he would have been worse than none,” put in Jack. “A dog is no good unless he is thoroughly broken.” “My ole man’s dun got de dorg,” put in Pickles. “But he would radder gib me his suit of clo’s dan let me take Woppy away. He t’inks moah ob dat dorg dan he does ob me, a heap sight.” “We’ll get along all right,” replied Jack. “But we must--hullo! here are tracks in the snow!” “Hist! a rabbit, suah you boarn!” whispered Pickles. Up came his gun. A tremendous report followed, and the colored youth went over backward in the snow. The heavy charge in the firearm completely demolished the rabbit, which had been close at hand. “Did--did--I hit him?” gasped Pickles, as he scrambled to his feet with a wild stare in his eyes. “Oh, no, you didn’t hit him, you simply scattered him,” returned Boxy, doubled up over the sight Pickles had presented as he went over. “You knocked him into six million pieces.” “Dat so?” Pickles gazed ruefully at the tufts of fur lying about. “By golly! dat was a most terribul shot, wasn’t it?” “I should say it was,” returned Jack. “What made you load up so heavily?” Pickles scratched his woolly head. “I dun racken I loaded dat yere gun twice,” he said, slowly. “I loaded her up yisterday, an’ dis moanin’ I did de same.” A perfect howl of laughter went up, and it increased instead of diminished when Pickles went around looking for enough of the rabbit to take back to camp. He was unsuccessful. “Well, you can be thankful that the gun didn’t burst and send you to kingdom come,” commented Harry. “Next time be sure to fire off the gun before you load again.” “You kin bet I will,” returned Pickles, and he spoke the truth. All of his charges after that were somewhat light. A little distance farther on they came across several more rabbits. Jack brought down one and his brother another. All the other boys fired and missed. “We’ll have rabbits if nothing else,” observed Jack. “But I am in hopes we’ll strike bigger game.” “A bear, for instance,” said Boxy. “Well, no, not exactly. But a deer wouldn’t go bad.” “There ought to be deer around here,” said Harry. “Barton Coils said we would find some sure.” “I suppose they are getting scarcer every year. Maybe we will have to go away back in the mountains for them.” On and on they trudged, without another sign of a rabbit. But presently Harry drew attention to a squirrel hole, and a halt was made to see what it might contain. They all loaded up, and then Boxy threw a snowball into the hole. Nothing followed, and then another snowball and a stick of wood were launched at the hole. Instantly a squirrel’s head appeared; his lordship looked out to see what was the cause of the disturbance. Jack took quick aim and fired. The head disappeared, but whether the animal had been hit or not they could not tell. “I’ll climb up and investigate,” said Boxy. “I have an idea there is more than one squirrel in that tree.”