open, or with a pane of glass on one side; a stick three or four feet long is run through an auger hole in the top and bottom, and wedged fast, which forms a standard; the other end of the stick is run through a hole on the little deck on the forward part of the boat, and placed in a socket formed for the purpose in the bottom, and is wedged at the deck, so as to make it steady.  The open or glass front of the box is turned forward, and a common japan lamp placed in a socket prepared for it in the box.  This of course throws the light forward, while the occupants of the boat are in the shadow.  The hunter sits, or more commonly lies at length on a bed of boughs in the bottom of the boat, with his rifle so far in front that the light will fall upon the forward sight.  An experienced boatman will paddle silently up to within twenty feet of a deer that may be feeding along the shore.  The stupid animal will stand, gazing in astonishment at the light, until the boat almost touches him.

“That Hank Martin,” said Cullen, one of the boatmen, as the hunters disappeared into the darkness, “is a queer boy in his way.  You will notice that when he straightens up, and takes the kinks out of him, he stands six feet and over in his stockings, and his arms hang down to his knees.  He’s the strongest man in these woods, and tolerably active when there’s occasion for it.  He is a droll, good-natured, easy tempered chap, and don’t get angry at trifles.  He is fond of a joke himself, and will stand having a good many sticks poked at him without getting riled; but when he does get his back up, it’s well enough to stand out of his way, and not step on his shadow.  He never struck a man but once in real earnest, and that was over in Keeseville, and on that occasion the people said the town clock had struck one.  The fellow he struck went eend over eend, and then went down, and when he went down he laid still—­he didn’t come to tine.

“But what I was going to tell you is, that Hank and I were down at Plattsburgh last fall, and a big fellow who had taken quite as much red eye as was for his good, undertook to pick a quarrel with Hank and give him a beating.  Hank, as I said, being a peaceable man, and much more given to fun than to fighting, kept good-natured, and avoided a scrimmage as long as he could.  But his patience and his temper at last caved in, and seizing his opponent by the neck with his left hand, and thrusting him down upon the ground, he began very deliberately to cuff him with his right, in a way that seemed anything but pleasant to the individual upon whom his cuffs were bestowed.  ‘Enough! enough!’ cried his assailant.  ‘Let up! enough! enough!’ ’Hold your tongue, you scoundrel!’ replied Hank, as he kept on pommeling his enemy, ’hold your tongue, I tell you!  You ain’t a judge of these things!  I’ll let you know when you’ve got enough.’  When he’d given him what he thought was about right, he lifted him on to his feet, and, holding him up face to face with himself a moment, ‘There,’ said he, ’look at me well, so that you’ll know me when I come this way again; and when you see my trail, you’d better travel some other road.’”