“Certainly not, Green,” was the answer.  “If it was known in the Fort I had permitted any of the party to fire, I should be broke, if I did’nt get picketed for my pains, and none of us would ever get out again.”

“No great harm in that, either,” said the man who had made the novel observation that Rome had not been built in a day.

The corporal looked sharply at the last speaker, as if not fully comprehending his meaning.

“Jackson means no great harm if we never got out again,” interposed Collins, “and I think as he does, for I see no fun in rowing four or five miles to fish, and scarcely getting a sight of one.”

“Well, but Collins, that’s not always our luck.  I’m sure we’ve had sport enough before.  It must be because the weather’s rather cold today, that the fish won’t bite.”

“It’s of no use his grumbling, Philips,” remarked Corporal Nixon, “we’re here, not so much for own sport as on a duty for the garrison.  Let me hear no more of this, Collins.”

“Well, corporal that’s true enough,” said Green, “but dash me if it isn’t temptin’ to see them fellows there stealin’ upon us, and we lookin’ on, and doin’ nothin’.”

“What fellows do you mean?” inquired the corporal, suddenly starting to his feet, and looking down the river.

“Why, them ducks to be sure, see how they come sailin’ up to us, as if they knowed all about the captin’s order—­no jumpin’ or friskin’ now, but all of a heap like.”

“Yes, but I say, what’s that black looking thing beyond the ducks?” asked one who had not hitherto spoken, pointing his finger.

“Where, where, Weston?” exclaimed one or two voices, and the speakers looked in the direction indicated.

“Hang me if it isn’t a bear,” said Collins in a low, anxious tone; “that’s the chap that has sent the ducks so near us.  Do let me have a crack at him, corporal.  He’s large enough to supply us all with fresh meat for three days, and will make up for the bad fishing.  Only one shy, corporal, and I engage not to miss him”

Sure enough, there was, in the centre of the stream, a dark object, nearly half a mile distant, which all joined in pronouncing to be a bear.  It was swimming vigorously across to their aide of the river.

“I think we might take him as he lands,” observed Green.  “What say you, corporal; I reckon you’ll let us try that, if you won’t let us fire?”

“Stay all where you are,” was the reply.  “I can manage him myself with a spear, if I can only be in time before he reaches the shore.  If not, it’s no matter, for I won’t allow a trigger to be pulled.”

Corporal Nixon was a tall, active, strong-limbed Virginian.  He soon cleared the space that separated them from the boat, and jumping to the stern, seized one of the fishing spears, and then moved on through:  the wood that densely skirted the bank.  But he had not been five minutes gone when he again made his appearance, not immediately by the half-formed path he had previously taken, but by a slight detour to the rear.