parties that Matt Coyle was determined to break up because the landlords refused to trust their guests to his care! It was no wonder Mr. Swan and his brother guides were anxious to rid the country of the presence of such a villain. While I was thinking about it I heard myself addressed in a faint voice; and upon looking in the direction from which it came, I discovered a seedy breech-loader resting against the thwart of the neighboring canoe.
You don't seem to remember me," said he, reproachfully.
"I can't say that I do," was my reply. "I think you have made a mistake in the fly-rod."
"No, I haven't," said he, confidently. "I knew you before you left Mr. Brown's store. Don't you remember the English fowling-piece that had the dispute with that conceited bamboo?"
So this was my old acquaintance, the "Brummagem shooting-iron," was it? It was right on the point of my tongue to remind him that the bamboo had not showed himself to be any more conceited than he was; but I didn't
