The Dog Crusoe and His Master | Page 7

his left hand, he drew the
stopper of his powder-horn with his teeth, and poured out as much
powder as sufficed to cover the bullet. This was the regular measure
among them. Little time was lost in firing, for these men did not "hang"
on their aim. The point of the rifle was slowly raised to the object, and
the instant the sight covered it the ball sped to its mark. In a few
minutes the nail was encircled by bullet holes, scarcely two of which
were more than an inch distant from the mark, and one--fired by Joe
Blunt--entered the tree close beside it.
"Ah, Joe!" said the major, "I thought you would have carried off the
prize."
"So did not I, sir," returned Blunt, with a shake of his head. "Had it
a-bin a half-dollar at a hundred yards, I'd ha' done better, but I never
could hit the nail. It's too small to see."

"That's cos ye've got no eyes," remarked Jim Scraggs, with a sneer, as
he stepped forward.
All tongues were now hushed, for the expected champion was about to
fire. The sharp crack of the rifle was followed by a shout, for Jim had
hit the nail-head on the edge, and part of the bullet stuck to it.
"That wins if there's no better," said the major, scarce able to conceal
his disappointment. "Who comes next?"
To this question Henri answered by stepping up to the line, straddling
his legs, and executing preliminary movements with his rifle, that
seemed to indicate an intention on his part to throw the weapon bodily
at the mark. He was received with a shout of mingled laughter and
applause. After gazing steadily at the mark for a few seconds, a broad
grin overspread his countenance, and looking round at his companions,
he said,--"Ha! mes boys, I can-not behold de nail at all!"
"Can ye 'behold' the _tree_?" shouted a voice, when the laugh that
followed this announcement had somewhat abated.
"Oh! oui," replied Henri quite coolly; "I can see him, an' a goot small
bit of de forest beyond."
"Fire at it, then. If ye hit the tree ye desarve the rifle--leastways ye
ought to get the pup."
Henri grinned again, and fired instantly, without taking aim.
The shot was followed by an exclamation of surprise, for the bullet was
found close beside the nail.
"It's more be good luck than good shootin'," remarked Jim Scraggs.
"Possiblement," answered Henri modestly, as he retreated to the rear
and wiped out his rifle; "mais I have kill most of my deer by dat same
goot luck."
"Bravo, Henri!" said Major Hope as he passed; "you deserve to win,

anyhow. Who's next?"
"Dick Varley," cried several voices; "where's Varley? Come on,
youngster, an' take yer shot."
The youth came forward with evident reluctance. "It's of no manner o'
use," he whispered to Joe Blunt as he passed, "I can't depend on my old
gun."
"Never give in," whispered Blunt, encouragingly.
Poor Varley's want of confidence in his rifle was merited, for, on
pulling the trigger, the faithless lock missed fire.
"Lend him another gun," cried several voices.
"'Gainst rules laid down by Major Hope," said Scraggs.
"Well, so it is; try again."
Varley did try again, and so successfully, too, that the ball hit the nail
on the head, leaving a portion of the lead sticking to its edge.
Of course this was greeted with a cheer, and a loud dispute began as to
which was the better shot of the two.
"There are others to shoot yet," cried the major. "Make way. Look out."
The men fell back, and the few hunters who had not yet fired took their
shots, but without coming nearer the mark.
It was now agreed that Jim Scraggs and Dick Varley, being the two
best shots, should try over again, and it was also agreed that Dick
should have the use of Blunt's rifle. Lots were again drawn for the first
shot, and it fell to Dick, who immediately stepped out, aimed somewhat
hastily, and fired.
"Hit again!" shouted those who had run forward to examine the mark.
"Half the bullet cut off by the nail head!"

Some of the more enthusiastic of Dick's friends cheered lustily, but the
most of the hunters were grave and silent, for they knew Jim's powers,
and felt that he would certainly do his best. Jim now stepped up to the
line, and, looking earnestly at the mark, threw forward his rifle.
At that moment our friend Crusoe, tired of tormenting his mother,
waddled stupidly and innocently into the midst of the crowd of men,
and in so doing received Henri's heel and the full weight of his
elephantine body on its fore paw. The horrible and electric yell that
instantly issued