 they take their flight,
that even long poles, in the hands of those on the sides of the mountain, were
used to strike them to the earth.
    During all this time, Mr. Jones, who disdained the humble and ordinary means
of destruction used by his companions, was busily occupied, aided by Benjamin,
in making arrangements for an assault of a more than ordinarily fatal character.
Among the relics of the old military excursions, that occasionally are
discovered throughout the different districts of the western part of New-York,
there had been found in Templeton, at its settlement, a small swivel, which
would carry a ball of a pound weight. It was thought to have been deserted by a
war-party of the whites, in one of their inroads into the Indian settlements,
when, perhaps, convenience or their necessity induced them to leave such an
encumbrance behind them in the woods. This miniature cannon had been released
from the rust, and being mounted on little wheels, was now in a state for actual
service. For several years, it was the sole organ for extraordinary rejoicings
used in those mountains. On the mornings of the Fourths of July, it would be
heard ringing among the hills, and even Captain Hollister, who was the highest
authority in that part of the country on all such occasions, affirmed that,
considering its dimensions, it was no despicable gun for a salute. It was
somewhat the worse for the service it had performed, it is true, there being but
a trifling difference in size between the touch-hole and the muzzle. Still, the
grand conceptions of Richard had suggested the importance of such an instrument,
in hurling death at his nimble enemies. The swivel was dragged by a horse into a
part of the open space, that the Sheriff thought most eligible for planting a
battery of the kind, and Mr. Pump proceeded to load it. Several handfuls of
duck-shot were placed on top of the powder, and the Major-domo announced that
his piece was ready for service.
    The sight of such an implement collected all the idle spectators to the
spot, who, being mostly boys, filled the air with cries of exultation and
delight. The gun was pointed high, and Richard, holding a coal of fire in a pair
of tongs, patiently took his seat on a stump, awaiting the appearance of a flock
worthy of his notice.
    So prodigious was the number of the birds, that the scattering fire of the
guns, with the hurling of missiles, and the cries of the boys, had no other
effect than
