As he drew near, he saw the doctor holding a small object in his hand while a look of pride glowed on his countenance.

It was a little squirrel.
"See what I have killed," enthusiastically cried the Doctor in German.
"Yaas," chimed in the darkey, "dat squi'l him swimmin' de ribber an' de Doc, he shot an' shot an' den I kill um wid de oah." After leaving Quincy, the Doctor again distinguished himself, by firing into some ducks that he saw in a slough on the Missouri side.

The negro had encouraged him to shoot and to his intense satisfaction, he accidentally killed one.

He made the darkey row in and pick it up, and a few moments later, a gruff voice was heard on the bank: "Pull ashore; nigger." Looking up they saw a gigantic Missourian with his rifle pointed at them and the negro pulled in as though he was trying to escape another lightning storm.
"Mister; I want six bits fur that er pet duck of mine," the man remarked to the Doctor.
The price demanded was promptly paid and the Doctor was glad to get away from that wicked looking weapon which the Missourian handled as though familiar with its use.

After that adventure, he lost all interest in hunting.
On June nineteenth, the party pulled into St.Louis, where they were welcomed by a crowd of about thirty-thousand people, and the screaming of whistles was something deafening.