"
"Really? He must be a genius!"
"Yes,"--wondering what a genius might be,--"if he'll only let you go
with him you'll have a good shoot."
"If he'll let me! Why shouldn't he? I expect to pay him for his
trouble."
Morton laughed.
"_That_ wouldn't make any difference. He doesn't seem to care much
for money; all he notices is how a man handles his gun. If you hold it
just to suit him, he'll go, and if you don't, he won't."
"How ridiculous! Well, do for goodness' sake tell me in what manner I
must handle the gun that I may please this Criticus."
Morton bridled with indignation.
"He ain't a cuss, Uncle Adam ain't. He's a nice man, and he knows what
he's about too. If you'd see some o' the fools that come down here to
shoot you'd be particular too, I guess. They're a good deal more apt to
hit their guide than the birds, I can tell you."
The young man laughed heartily.
"My boy, I hadn't the slightest intention of calling your relative
names; that was simply a title many men would be proud to bear."
"That's all right." in a mollified tone; "but he isn't any relation to
me. Everybody calls him uncle."
"Ah, I see. You make me feel wonderfully interested in this wise Adam,
and only in a fright for fear I won't hold my weapon to suit him;
couldn't you give me a lesson or two, now?"
Morton looked at the stranger askance; was he making fun of him? then
straightening his boyish shoulders, he said proudly, "I can tell you
something better than that.
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