Perhaps the reader may think that while the seven heroes were together, instead of packing Henry, the seventh (observe the comma immediately after Henry; observe, also, that it is not written Henry VII.), off home, it would have been better to relate a few more of their exploits. Not so. In imposing on Marmaduke, each one was guilty of a breach of trust, so that it would not be right to have them appear with such a stain on their reputation. As for Jim, he premeditated villainy; and in good romances no villain can long be regarded as a hero—unless he happens to be a highwayman, and it would be preposterous to attempt to have Jim play the highwayman. Now, the intention is to write this story on a moral basis; therefore, a few years are suffered to elapse, and they are supposed to reform in that time.

Marmaduke did no wrong, so that his history might be[349] continued, without doubt. But this story could not go on, unless all the boys, Jim included, were in it.

Suppose, therefore, that six years have passed since the burning of “Nobody’s House.” The boys, now men, are still alive, and in good health and spirits. How they have spent those six years is not difficult to imagine. All of them regularly attended school till they were big and awkward, when most of them were sent to a university, to complete their education.

It was originally the intention to relate some thrilling incidents that took place while they were students; but being too lazy to collect sufficient scientific facts to do so with effect, that intention was reluctantly given up.

Gentle reader, if you are ever at a loss for something to sigh about, just think what you have missed in not reading how four sophomores barely escaped blowing themselves and a leaky steamboat up into the clouds, fancying that they understood the theory of working a steam-engine. To torture you still further, imagine, also, a scene in which a learned professor’s “focus cannon” mysteriously, unadvisedly, and to the heroes’ amazement and horror, shot a ball into a pair of glass globes, which the affectionate students were about to present to him.

It was autumn; and the seven young men, heroes still, were preparing to journey far northward, to hunt deer, or whatever else their bullets might chance to strike.

Will and Henry prevailed on Uncle Dick to accompany them—greatly to the satisfaction of the elders, who fondly hoped he would keep a fatherly eye on the reckless hunters, and prevent them from destroying themselves.

Fully equipped, the party of eight set out for the “happy hunting grounds,” firm in the resolution to kill all the game still remaining in the great northwest. If plenty of ammunition and fire-arms would avail, then certainly they should bring home a great supply of animal food.

But whether the fourfooted creatures of the forest were forewarned that a band of mighty hunters was on the war-trail, and fled from their sylvan haunts, or[350] whether they obstinately remained, and bade defiance to the Nimrods’ balls, is a mooted point, which the intensely interested reader may set at rest as he pleases.

Having arrived at the outskirts of a growing settlement, close to a genuine forest, the eight hunters fell to work, and soon built an uncomfortable and unsafe little shanty.

“This will be life in earnest,” Charles observed joyously.

The young ladies of his native village politely spoke of him as “Mr. Growler;” but his moustache was still so white that we should not be justified in so honoring him.

“Yes; this is the artless life our forefathers lived;” said Marmaduke, poetical as ever.

“No,” corrected Stephen, “our forefathers didn’t range through the forest with Castile soap in their bundles and charms dangling on their watch chains.”

“Come, now, considering that you smuggled the soap into Marmaduke’s pack, you are rather hard on him,” said Will.

“Oh, I smuggled it there for my own use as well as for his,” Stephen explained.

This proves that Steve was as fond as ever of monkey tricks.

Of course the hunters were to depend on what they killed in the chase for food; and so, as soon as they were fairly settled, Will and Henry set out to shoot something that would make a delicious stew for dinner.

All at once a strange, shadowy form was espied by Will, lurking in the edge of the wood; and without a moment’s hesitation he raised his gun and fired. Now, at home, Will was considered an excellent marksman; therefore, Henry, who was beside him, was not surprised to see that, whatever the animal might be, it was stone dead.

They hurried to the fallen prey, and were almost as much disappointed as the small boy is when he finds that his fish-hook has captured a demonstrative crab instead of a good-natured chub.

“Well,” the destroyer said, with a grim smile, “I have[351] done what Steve has often tried to do, but never did—I have slain a grimalkin!”

“Cats have no business to prowl around here, and they deserve to be shot, though we haven’t come all this distance to shoot them,” Henry said peevishly. “But let us hide this hoary fellow; for if Steve should hear of it, he might be tempted to box it up and send it home as your first deer.”

It would not be worth while to give the weary and fruitless tramp the cousins took; it is sufficient to say that they shot nothing that a civilized cook would take pride in preparing for the table. At last Henry was fortunate enough to disable a brace of woodcocks, and after an exciting chase they secured them, and then returned to their quarters.

Next morning the entire party went hunting, resolved to kill something. They penetrated far into the forest, talking as freely as if they were in a desert or on the ocean. Consequently, they did not see much game.

“Hist!” Mr. Lawrence suddenly exclaimed. “What enormous beast is that yonder?”

“It’s a bear?” Will cried with rapture. “A genuine bear!”

“Are there bears here, in this part of the world?” Jim asked uneasily. “Did we come to hunt bears?”

“Of course we did; of course there are;” Henry said with disgust. “Jim, I wish our good old professor could have you among his students. There would be virgin soil, and you would make an apt student, I am sure.”

“Yes, it is a bear,” George said emphatically. “A large bear, and probably a ferocious one. There is the true bearish head, thick and heavy; the cropped ears; the thick snout; and the long shaggy coat. It is larger than even the one in the museum, isn’t it, Henry?”

Henry thought it was.

“I see the very place to plant a fatal shot,” George hinted.

“Plant it, then,” Steve growled.

George, eager to slay the monster, fired quickly.

The smoke cleared away, and there lay the bear, in exactly the same position.

[352]

“It is stone-dead, surely enough!” Will said, as though surprised.

“No; I fancied I saw it move a little,” Mr. Lawrence said.

“Then let us all fire a round of balls into it,” Steve suggested.

“I won’t have it riddled with shot!” George said angrily. “I saw just where to hit it, and I hit it there............