184 THE YOUNG FUR-TRADERS.

able to walk, and yet there he stood, his black eyes glit-
tering with excitement, his tiny bow bent to its utmost,
and a blunt-headed arrow about to be discharged at a
squirrel, whose flight had been suddenly arrested by the
unexpected apparition of Charley and Jacques. As he
stood there for a single instant, perfectly motionless, he
might have been mistaken for a grotesque statue of an
Indian cupid. Taking advantage of the squirrel’s pause,
the child let fly the arrow, hit it exactly on the point
of the nose, and turned it over, dead—a consummation
which he greeted with a rapid succession of frightful
yells.

“Cleverly done, my lad; you're a chip of the old block,
I see,” said Jacques, patting the child’s head as he passed,
and retraced his steps, with Charley, to the Indian camp.