Lt. Muir was now obliged to acquiesce, and every eye turned towards the
Pathfinder, as he took the required station. The air and attitude of this
celebrated guide and hunter were extremely fine, as he raised his tall form, and
levelled the piece, showing perfect self-command, and a thorough knowledge of
the power of the human frame, as well as of the weapon. Pathfinder was not what
is usually termed a handsome man, though his appearance excited so much
confidence and commanded respect. Tall, and even muscular, his frame might have
been esteemed nearly perfect, were it not for the total absence of every thing
like flesh. Whip-cord was scarcely more rigid than his arms and legs, or, at
need, more pliable; but the outlines of his person were rather too angular for
the proportions that the eye most approves. Still, his motions being natural
were graceful, and being calm and regulated, they gave him an air of dignity
that associated well with the idea that was so prevalent, of his services and
peculiar merits. His honest, open features were burnt to a bright red, that
comported well with the notion of exposure and hardships, while his sinewy hands
denoted force and a species of use that was removed from the stiffening and
deforming effects of labor. Although no one perceived any of those gentler, or
more insinuating qualities, which are apt to win upon a woman's affections, as
he poised his rifle, not a female eye was fastened on him, without a silent
approbation of the freedom of his movements, and the manliness of his air.
Thought was scarcely quicker than his aim, and, as the smoke floated above his
head, the breech of the rifle was seen on the ground, the hand of the Pathfinder
was leaning on the barrel, and his honest countenance was illuminated by his
usual silent, hearty laugh.
    »If one dared to hint at such a thing,« cried Major Duncan, »I should say
that the Pathfinder had also missed the target!«
    »No - no - Major,« returned the guide, confidently. »That would be a risky
declaration. I did'n't load the piece, and can't say what was in it; but if it
was lead, you will find the bullet driving down those of the Quarter Master's
and Jasper's; else is not my name, Pathfinder.«
    A shout from the target announced the truth of this assertion.
    »That's not all - that's not all, boys,« called out