His father had brought from Holland an old musket, used
before the country was erected into a kingdom for Louis Bonaparte, more
than eighty years ago; but when Nick rammed a charge down its dusty
throat one day, forgetful that one had been resting there for months,
and pulled trigger, it hung fire a long time; but, when it did go off,
it did so in an overwhelming fashion, bursting into a dozen pieces and
narrowly missing killing the astounded lad who discharged it.
But Nick was so anxious to own a gun, that his father bought him one on
the day he reached the age of ten years, which was shortly after
Nellie's adventure with the bear. Although the farmer was frugal in all
things, he believed it was the cheapest to buy the best, and the gun
which was placed in the hands of Nick was a breech-loader with double
barrels. It was a shot-gun, as a matter of course, for little use could
be found for a rifle in that neighborhood.
But Nick had practiced with this piece only a few weeks, when his
ambition was turned in another direction by a large, strong boy, who
hired himself out upon the farm of Mr. Marston. He was sixteen years of
age, and was named Sam Harper. His father had been a soldier in the late
war, and gave to Sam a fine breech-loading rifle, which he brought with
him when he hired out to Mr. Marston.
The lad had owned it two years, and, under the tutelage of his father,
who was wounded and living upon a pension, he became very skillful for
one of his age.
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