Читать книгу Little Rifle; or, The Young Fur Hunters онлайн

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But exactly the opposite was the case. He was resolved before venturing further up the stream to find out precisely the nature of the danger that impended. It was one of the maxims of old Robsart never to leave the presence of danger until he had learned all about it.

This stealthy movement of the Blackfoot very probably had a deep significance, which Little Rifle was determined to penetrate, if such a thing were possible.

After walking a hundred yards, and reaching a point where he felt secure from observation, he once more laid the trap upon the ground, and examined his rifle. The latter was a perfect weapon in its way, fitted to carry a ball a great distance with accuracy and was just suited to the strength of the lad. He handled it, too, like one who understood its use, as indeed he did.

Every thing seemed to be satisfactory, and in as perfect order as he could desire.

“The gun is reliable,” was his satisfied exclamation, as he threw it over his shoulder again; “now, if I ain’t mistaken, there’s going to be trouble between a boy about my size, and a Blackfoot Indian a good deal bigger!”