I can't shoot much, never could, but I happened to hit 'im square in the lef' eye, what I shot at, and it was a hundred yards.

Down he tumbles, and I runs to 'im and finds my same old scalp a hangin' to his belt.
Well, I lifted off his hair with my knife, and untied mine from the belt, and then I had both scalps, he! he! he! You ask Simon Kenton when ye see 'im.

He was along at the same time, and they made 'im run the ga'ntlet and pretty nigh beat the life out o' 'im.

Ventrebleu!" Beverley now recollected hearing Kenton tell the same grim story by a camp-fire in the hills of Kentucky.

Somehow it had caught a new spirit in the French rendering, which linked it with the old tales of adventure that he had read in his boyhood, and it suddenly endeared Oncle Jazon to him.