"There you are, Fan; take it to a corner and make yourself at
home.--Ay, that's right, mother, give her somethin' to eat; she's
hungry, I know by the look o' her eye."
"Deary me, Dick!" said Mrs. Varley, who now proceeded to spread the
youth's mid-day meal before him, "did ye drive the nail three times?"
"No, only once, and that not parfetly. Brought 'em all down at one
shot--rifle, Fan, an' pup!"
"Well, well, now that was cliver; but--." Here the old woman paused
and looked grave.
"But what, mother?"
"You'll be wantin' to go off to the mountains now, I fear me, boy."
"Wantin' _now_!" exclaimed the youth earnestly; "I'm _always_ wantin'.
I've bin wantin' ever since I could walk; but I won't go till you let
me, mother, that I won't!" And he struck the table with his fist so
forcibly that the platters rung again.
"You're a good boy, Dick; but you're too young yit to ventur' among
the Redskins."
"An' yit, if I don't ventur' young, I'd better not ventur' at all. You
know, mother dear, I don't want to leave you; but I was born to be a
hunter, and everybody in them parts is a hunter, and I can't hunt in
the kitchen you know, mother!"
At this point the conversation was interrupted by a sound that caused
young Varley to spring up and seize his rifle, and Fan to show her
teeth and growl.
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