STORY FIFTH.  MY FIRST HUNTING-EXCURSION.

I shall never forget the first time I sallied out into the woods to try my hand at hunting.  Carlo, the old family dog, went with me, and he was about as green in the matter of securing game as myself.  We were pretty well matched, I think.  I played the part of Hudibras, as nearly as I can recollect, and Carlo was a second Ralph.  I had a most excellent fowling-piece—­so they said.  It began its career in the French war, and was a very veteran in service.  Besides this ancient and honorable weapon, I was provided with all the means and appliances necessary for successful hunting.  I was “armed and equipped as the law directs,” to employ the words of those semi-annual documents that used to summon me to training.

Well, it was sometime before we—­Carlo and I—­started any game.  Wind-mills were scarce.  For one, I began to fear we should have to return without any adventure to call forth our skill and courage.  But the brightest time is often just before day, and so it was in this instance.  Carlo began presently to bark, and I heard a slight rustling among the leaves in the woods.  Sure enough, there was visible a large animal of some kind, though I could not determine precisely what it was, on account of the underbrush.  However, I satisfied myself that it was rare game, at any rate; and that point being settled, I took aim and fired.

Carlo immediately ran to the poor victim.  He was a courageous fellow, that Carlo, especially after the danger was over.  Many a time I have known him make demonstrations as fierce as a tiger when people rode by our house, though he generally took care not to insult them until they were at a convenient distance.  Carlo had no notion of being killed, knowing very well that if he were dead, he could be of no service whatever to the world.  Hudibras said well when he said,

  “That he who fights and runs away,
   May live to fight another day.”

[Illustration:  RODERICK’S FIRST SHOT.]

That was good logic.  But Carlo went farther than this, even.  He was for running away before he fought at all; and so he always did, except when the enemy ran away first, in which case he ran after him, as every chivalrous dog should.  In the case of the animal which I shot at, Carlo bounded to his side when the gun was discharged, as I said before.  For myself, I did not venture quite so soon, remembering that caution is the parent of safety.  By and by, however, I mustered courage, and advanced to the spot.  There lay the victim of my first shot!  It was one of my father’s sheep!  Poor creature!  She was sick, I believe, and went into a thicket, near a stream of water, where she could die in peace.

I don’t know whether I hit her or not.  I didn’t look to see, but ran home as fast as my legs would carry me.  Thus ended the first hunting excursion in which I ever engaged, and, though I was a mere boy then, and am somewhat advanced now, it proved to be my last.