"Well Pathfinder, and so you have come to get an idea too, concerning the philosophy of shooting?
I do not wish to hide my light under a bushel, and yer welcome to all ye'll learn.
Do ye no' mean to try a shot yersel', man?"
"Why should I, Quartermaster, why should I?
I want none of the prizes; and as for honor, I have had enough of that, if it's any honor to shoot better than yourself.
I'm not a woman to wear a calash."
"Very true; but ye might find a woman that is precious in your eyes to wear it for ye, as -- -- "
"Come, Davy," interrupted the Major, "your shot or a retreat.
The Adjutant is getting impatient."
"The Quartermaster's department and the Adjutant's department are seldom compliable, Lundie; but I'm ready.
Stand a little aside, Pathfinder, and give the ladies an opportunity."
Lieutenant Muir now took his attitude with a good deal of studied elegance, raised his rifle slowly, lowered it, raised it again, repeated the manoeuvres, and fired.
"Missed the target altogether!" shouted the man whose duty it was to mark the bullets, and who had little relish for the Quartermaster's tedious science.
"Missed the target!"
"It cannot be!" cried Muir, his face flushing equally with indignation and shame; "it cannot be, Adjutant; for I never did so awkward a thing in my life.
I appeal to the ladies for a juster judgment."
"The ladies shut their eyes when you fired!" exclaimed the regimental wags.
"Your preparations alarmed them."
"I will na believe such calumny of the leddies, nor sic' a reproach on my own skill," returned the Quartermaster, growing more and more Scotch as he warmed with his feelings; "it's a conspiracy to rob a meritorious man of his dues."
"It's a dead miss, Muir," said the laughing Lundie; "and ye'll jist sit down quietly with the disgrace."
"No, no, Major," Pathfinder at length observed; "the Quartermaster is a good shot for a slow one and a measured distance, though nothing extr'ornary for real service.
He has covered Jasper's bullet, as will be seen, if any one will take the trouble to examine the target."
The respect for Pathfinder's skill and for his quickness and accuracy of sight was so profound and general, that, the instant he made this declaration, the spectators began to distrust their own opinions, and a dozen rushed to the target in order to ascertain the fact.
There, sure enough, it was found that the Quartermaster's bullet had gone through the hole made by Jasper's, and that, too, so accurately as to require a minute examination to be certain of the circumstance; which, however, was soon clearly established, by discovering one bullet over the other in the stump against which the target was placed.
"I told ye, ladies, ye were about to witness the influence of science on gunnery," said the Quartermaster, advancing towards the staging occupied by the females.
"Major Duncan derides the idea of mathematics entering into target-shooting; but I tell him philosophy colors, and enlarges, and improves, and dilates, and explains everything that belongs to human life, whether it be a shooting-match or a sermon.
In a word, philosophy is philosophy, and that is saying all that the subject requires."
"I trust you exclude love from the catalogue," observed the wife of a captain who knew the history of the Quartermaster's marriages, and who had a woman's malice against the monopolizer of her sex; "it seems that philosophy has little in common with love."
"You wouldn't say that, madam, if your heart had experienced many trials.
It's the man or the woman that has had many occasions to improve the affections that can best speak of such matters; and, believe me, of all love, philosophical is the most lasting, as it is the most rational."
"You would then recommend experience as an improvement on the passion?"
"Your quick mind has conceived the idea at a glance.
The happiest marriages are those in which youth and beauty and confidence on one side, rely on the sagacity, moderation, and prudence of years -- middle age, I mean, madam, for I'll no' deny that there is such a thing as a husband's being too old for a wife.
Here is Sergeant Dunham's charming daughter, now, to approve of such sentiments, I'm certain; her character for discretion being already well established in the garrison, short as has been her residence among us."
"Sergeant Dunham's daughter is scarcely a fitting interlocutor in a discourse between you and me, Lieutenant Muir," rejoined the captain's lady, with careful respect for her own dignity; "and yonder is the Pathfinder about to take his chance, by way of changing the subject."
"I protest, Major Duncan, I protest," cried Muir hurrying back towards the stand, with both arms elevated by way of enforcing his words, --
"I protest in the strongest terms, gentlemen, against Pathfinder's being admitted into these sports with Killdeer, which is a piece, to say nothing of long habit that is altogether out of proportion for a trial of skill against Government rifles."
"Killdeer is taking its rest, Quartermaster," returned Pathfinder calmly, "and no one here thinks of disturbing it.
I did not think, myself, of pulling a trigger to-day; but Sergeant Dunham has been persuading me that I shall not do proper honor to his handsome daughter, who came in under my care, if I am backward on such an occasion.
I'm using Jasper's rifle, Quartermaster, as you may see, and that is no better than your own."
Lieutenant Muir was now obliged to acquiesce, and every eye turned towards the Pathfinder, as he took the required station.
The air and attitude of this celebrated guide and hunter were extremely fine, as he raised his tall form and levelled the piece, showing perfect self-command, and a through knowledge of the power of the human frame as well as of the weapon.
Pathfinder was not what is usually termed a handsome man, though his appearance excited so much confidence and commanded respect.
Tall, and even muscular, his frame might have been esteemed nearly perfect, were it not for the total absence of everything like flesh.
Whipcord was scarcely more rigid than his arms and legs, or, at need, more pliable; but the outlines of his person were rather too angular for the proportion that the eye most approves.
Still, his motions, being natural, were graceful, and, being calm and regulated, they gave him an air and dignity that associated well with the idea, which was so prevalent, of his services and peculiar merits.
His honest, open features were burnt to a bright red, that comported well with the notion of exposure and hardships, while his sinewy hands denoted force, and a species of use removed from the stiffening and deforming effects of labor.
Although no one perceived any of those gentler or more insinuating qualities which are apt to win upon a woman's affections, as he raised his rifle not a female eye was fastened on him without a silent approbation of the freedom of his movements and the manliness of his air.
Thought was scarcely quicker than his aim; and, as the smoke floated above his head, the butt-end of the rifle was seen on the ground, the hand of the Pathfinder was leaning on the barrel, and his honest countenance was illuminated by his usual silent, hearty laugh.
"If one dared to hint at such a thing," cried Major Duncan, "I should say that the Pathfinder had also missed the target."