"You shall have it your own way, Pathfinder," he an-swered, as soon as his doubts had settled down into de-termination; "let the, Sergeant's daughter -- his charming daughter, I should have termed her -- be the umpire then;and to her we will both dedicate the prize, that one or the other must certainly win.Pathfinder must be humored, ladies, as you perceive, else, no doubt, we should have had the honor to submit ourselves to one of your charming society."A call for the competitors now drew the Quartermaster and his adversary away, and in a few moments the second trial of skill commenced.A common wrought nail was driven lightly into the target, its head having been first touched with paint, and the marksman was required to hit it, or he lost his chances in the succeeding trials.No one was permitted to enter, on this occasion, who had already failed in the essay against the bull's-eye.
There might have been half a dozen aspirants for the honors of this trial; one or two, who had barely succeeded in touching the spot of paint in the previous strife, pre-ferring to rest their reputations there, feeling certain that they could not succeed in the greater effort that was now exacted of them.The first three adventurers failed, all coming very near the mark, but neither touching it.
The fourth person whb presented himself was the Quarter-master, who, after going through his usual attitudes, so far succeeded as to carry away a small portion of the head of the nail, planting his bullet by the side of its point.This was not considered an extraordinary shot, though it brought the adventurer within the category.
"You've saved your bacon, Quartermaster, as they say in the settlements of their creaturs," cried Pathfinder, laughing; "but it would take a long time to build a house with a hammer no better than yours.Jasper, here, will show you how a nail is to be started, or the lad has lost some of his steadiness of hand and sartainty of eye.You would have done better yourself, Lieutenant, had you not been so much bent on soldierizing your figure.Shooting is a natural gift, and is to be exercised in a natural way.""We shall see, Pathfinder; I call that a pretty attempt at a nail; and I doubt if the 55th has another hammer, as you call it, that can do just the same thing over again.""Jasper is not in the 55th, but there goes his rap."As the Pathfinder spoke, the bullet of Eau-douce hit the nail square, and drove it into the target, within an inch of the head.
"Be all ready to clench it, boys!" cried out Pathfinder, stepping into his friend's tracks the instant they were vacant."Never mind a new nail; I can see that, though the paint is gone, and what I can see I can hit, at a hun-dred yards, though it were only a mosquito's eye.Be ready to clench!"The rifle cracked, the bullet sped its way, and the head of the nail was buried in the wood, covered by the piece of flattened lead.
"Well, Jasper, lad," continued Pathfinder, dropping the butt-end of his rifle to the ground, and resuming the dis-course, as if he thought nothing of his own exploit, "you improve daily.A few more tramps on land in my com-pany, and the best marksman on the frontiers will have occasion to look keenly when he takes his stand ag'in you.
The Quartermaster is respectable, but he will never get any farther; whereas you, Jasper, have the gift, and may one day defy any who pull trigger.""Hoot, hoot!" exclaimed Muir; "do you call hitting the head of the nail respectable only, when it's the per-fection of the art? Any one the least refined and elevated in sentiment knows that the delicate touches denote the master; whereas your sledge-hammer blows come from the rude and uninstructed.If 'a miss is as good as a mile,' a hit ought to be better, Pathfinder, whether it wound or kill.""The surest way of settling this rivalry will be to make another trial," observed Lundie, "and that will be of the potato.You're Scotch, Mr.Muir, and might fare better were it a cake or a thistle; but frontier law has declared for the American fruit, and the potato it shall be."As Major Duncan manifested some impatience of man-ner, Muir had too much tact to delay the sports any longer with his discursive remarks, but judiciously prepared him-self for the next appeal.To say the truth, the Quarter-master had little or no faith in his own success in the trial of skill that was to follow, nor would he have been so free in presenting himself as a competitor at all had he an-ticipated it would have been made; but Major Duncan, who was somewhat of a humorist in his own quiet Scotch way, had secretly ordered it to be introduced expressly to mortify him; for, a laird himself, Lundie did not relish the notion that one who might claim to be a gentleman should bring discredit on his caste by forming an unequal alliance.As soon as everything was prepared, Muir was summoned to the stand, and the potato was held in readi-ness to be thrown.As the sort of feat we are about to offer to the reader, however, may be new to him, a word in explanation will render the matter more clear.A potato of large size was selected, and given to one who stood at the distance of twenty yards from the stand.At the word "heave!" which was given by the marksman, the vegetable was thrown with a gentle toss into the air, and it was the business of the adventurer to cause a ball to pass through it before it reached the ground.
The Quartermaster, in a hundred experiments, had once succeeded in accomplishing this difficult feat; but he now essayed to perform it again, with a sort of blind hope that was fated to be disappointed.The potato was thrown in the usual manner, the rifle was discharged, but the flying target was untouched.
