The Boy Hunters | Page 4

partake of the amusements
of the chase, although still able to indulge in the more delicate pursuits
of the naturalist. With his wooden leg he was able to hobble about the
house and lawn, prune the trees, and attend to his pets that had grown
to be quite numerous, while Hugot at all times followed him about like
his shadow. The boys, however, went abroad on hunting expeditions,
and collected specimens as formerly; and the life of all went on pretty
much as usual.
Thus it was when I first became acquainted with the naturalist, his man
Hugot, and his three sons--the Boy Hunters, the heroes of our little
book.
Young reader, permit me to introduce you to a more intimate
acquaintance with them. I fancy you will like them--all three--and be
happy for some time in their society.
CHAPTER THREE.

THE PRINCE'S LETTER.
It is a lovely morning in Spring as we approach their dwelling. We
enter the lawn by a side-gate. We need not go into the house, for there
is no one within doors. The weather is too fine for that, but they are all
at home notwithstanding. They are in the lawn in front, and the
verandah.
They are differently occupied. The Colonel himself is engaged feeding
his pets. Hugot is helping him, and carries the basket containing their
food.
You would call the Colonel a fine-looking man. His hair is as white as
bleached flax. So, too, are his moustaches. He wears no beard. His face
is cleanly shaved, showing a complexion bronzed and somewhat ruddy.
The expression of his countenance is mild, though firm. He is much
thinner than he has been in his time, on account of the amputation of
his leg, which often produces this effect. His dress is simple. A jacket
of yellow nankeen, a striped cotton shirt, with loose cottonade trousers
of bright sky colour. A Panama hat, with very broad brim, shades his
eyes from the sun, and his shirt is open at the throat, for the day is
warm. Thus is the Colonel attired. Hugot is dressed after a somewhat
similar fashion; but the material of his jacket and trousers is coarser,
and his hat is of the common palmetto leaf.
Look at Basil, the oldest of the boys. He is at work fixing some straps
to a hunting-saddle, that lies on the grass beside him. Basil is exactly
seventeen years of age. He is a fine-looking lad, though not what you
might call handsome. His face has a courageous expression, and his
form betokens strength. His hair is straight, and black as jet. He is more
like an Italian than either of his brothers. He is, in fact, the son of his
father--a true Corsican. Basil is a "mighty hunter." He is more fond of
the chase than of aught else. He loves hunting for itself, and delights in
its dangers. He has got beyond the age of bird-catching and squirrel
shooting. His ambition is not now to be satisfied with anything less
exciting than a panther, bear, or buffalo hunt.
How very unlike him is Lucien, the second in age! Unlike in almost

everything. Lucien is delicately formed, with a light complexion and
very fair hair. He is more like what his mother was, for she was
fair-haired and blonde, as are many of her people--the Basques. Lucien
is passionately fond of books and study. He is busy with a book just
now in the verandah. He is a student of natural history in general, but
botany and geology are his favourite sciences, and he has made
considerable progress in both. He accompanies Basil on all hunting
expeditions; but, in the midst of the most exciting chase, Lucien would
leap down from his horse if a rare plant or flower, or an odd-looking
rock, was to fall under his eye. Lucien talks but little--not half so much
as most boys--but although habitually silent he possesses a rare good
sense; and when he offers his advice upon any question, it is usually
received with respect by the others. Such is the secret influence of
intellect and education.
Next and last, we have Francois, a quick-witted, curly-haired urchin--
merry to madness--cheerful at all times--changeable in his tastes and
likings--versatile in talents--in short, more of a Frenchman than any of
them. Francois is a great bird-catcher. He is at this moment engaged in
repairing his nets; and his double-barrel shot gun, which he has just
finished cleaning, rests beside him. Francois is a favourite with
everybody, but a great pest to Hugot, upon whom he plays numerous
tricks.
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While the naturalist and his family were thus engaged, a loud booming
noise was heard at some distance off, down the river. It somewhat
resembled the regular firing of great guns, though