two or three charges out of it. His percussion caps, however, were completely destroyed; and even though they had not been, it would have mattered little, for he did not possess more than half a dozen. But this was not so great a misfortune was at first it might seem, for he had the spare flint locks and the little screwdriver necessary for fixing and unfixing them stowed in his shot pouch.
To examine his supply of bullets was his next care, and slowly he counted them out, one by one, to the number of thirty. This was a pretty fair supply, and with careful economy would last him many days. Having relieved his mind he carefully examined every corner of his dress to ascertain the exact amount and value of his wealth.
Besides the leather leggings, moccasins, deerskin hunting-shirt, cap, and belt which composed his costume, he had a short heavy hunting-knife, a piece of tinder, a little tin pannikin, which he had been in the habit of carrying at his belt, and a large cake of maple sugar. This last is a species of sugar which is procured by the Indians from the maple-tree. Several cakes of it had been carried off from the Pawnee village, and Dick usually carried one in the breast of his coat. Besides these things, he found that the little Bible, for which his mother had made a small inside breast-pocket, was safe. Dick’s heart smote him when he took it out and undid the clasp, for he had not looked at it until that day. It was firmly bound with a brass clasp, so that, although the binding and the edges of the leaves were soaked, the inside was quite dry. On opening the book to see if it had been damaged, a small paper fell out. Picking it up quickly, he read, in his mother’s handwriting: “Call upon me in the time of trouble; and I will deliver thee, and thou shall glorify me. My son, give me thine heart.”
Dick’s eyes filled with tears while the sound, as it were, of his mother’s voice thus reached him unexpectedly in that onely wilderness. Like too many whose hearts are young and gay, Dick had regarded religion, if not as a gloomy, at least as not a cheerful thing. But he felt the comfort of these words at that moment, and he resolved seriously to peruse his mother’s parting gift in time to come.
The sun was hot, and a warm breeze gently shook the leaves, so that Dick’s garments were soon dry. A few minutes served to change the locks of his rifle, draw the wet charges, dry out the barrels, and reload. Then throwing it across his shoulder, he entered the wood and walked lightly
