The discussions and disputes concerning the last shot were now abating, it having been determined that if the turkey’s head had been anywhere but just where it was at that moment, the bird must certainly have been killed.
There was not much excitement produced by the preparations of the youth, who proceeded in a hurried manner to take his aim, and was in the act of pulling the trigger, when he was stopped by Natty.
“Your hand shakes, lad,” he said, “and you seem over eager.
Bullet-wounds are apt to weaken flesh, and to my judgment you’ll not shoot so well as in common.
If you will fire, you should shoot quick, before there is time to shake off the aim.”
“Fair play,” again shouted the negro; “fair play—gib a nigger fair play.
What right a Nat Bumppo advise a young man?
Let ‘em shoot—clear a ground.”
The youth fired with great rapidity, but no motion was made by the turkey; and, when the examiners for the ball returned from the “mark,” they declared that he had missed the stump.
Elizabeth observed the change in his countenance, and could not help feeling surprise that one so evidently superior to his companions should feel a trifling loss so sensibly.
But her own champion was now preparing to enter the lists.
The mirth of Brom, which had been again excited, though in a much smaller degree than before, by the failure of the second adventurer, vanished the instant Natty took his stand.
His skin became mottled with large brown spots, that fearfully sullied the lustre of his native ebony, while his enormous lips gradually compressed around two rows of ivory that had hitherto been shining in his visage like pearls set in jet.
His nostrils, at all times the most conspicuous feature of his face, dilated until they covered the greater part of the diameter of his countenance; while his brown and bony hands unconsciously grasped the snow-crust near him, the excitement of the moment completely overcoming his native dread of cold.
While these indications of apprehension were exhibited in the sable owner of the turkey, the man who gave rise to this extraordinary emotion was as calm and collected as if there was not to be a single spectator of his skill.
“I was down in the Dutch settlements on the Schoharie,” said Natty, carefully removing the leather guard from the lock of his rifle, “just before the breaking out of the last war, and there was a shooting-match among the boys; so I took a hand.
I think I opened a good many Dutch eyes that day; for I won the powder-horn, three bars of lead, and a pound of as good powder as ever flashed in pan.
Lord! how they did swear in Jarman!
They did tell me of one drunken Dutchman who said he’d have the life of me before I got back to the lake agin.
But if he had put his rifle to his shoulder with evil intent God would have punished him for it; and even if the Lord didn’t, and he had missed his aim, I know one that would have given him as good as he sent, and better too, if good shooting could come into the ‘count.”
By this time the old hunter was ready for his business, and throwing his right leg far behind him, and stretching his left arm along the barrel of his piece, he raised it toward the bird, Every eye glanced rapidly from the marks man to the mark; but at the moment when each ear was expecting the report of the rifle, they were disappointed by the ticking sound of the flint.
“A snap, a snap!” shouted the negro, springing from his crouching posture like a madman, before his bird.
“A snap good as fire—Natty Bumppo gun he snap—Natty Bumppo miss a turkey!”
“Natty Bumppo hit a nigger,” said the indignant old hunter, “if you don’t get out of the way, Brom.
It’s contrary to the reason of the thing, boy, that a snap should count for a fire, when one is nothing more than a fire-stone striking a steel pan, and the other is sudden death; so get out of my way, boy, and let me show Billy Kirby how to shoot a Christmas turkey.”
“Gib a nigger fair play!” cried the black, who continued resolutely to maintain his post, and making that appeal to the justice of his auditors which the degraded condition of his caste so naturally suggested.
“Eberybody know dat snap as good as fire.
Leab it to Massa Jone—leab it to lady.”
“Sartain,” said the wood-chopper; “it’s the law of the game in this part of the country, Leather-Stocking.
If you fire agin you must pay up the other shilling.
I b’lieve I’ll try luck once more myself; so, Brom, here’s my money, and I take the next fire.”
“It’s likely you know the laws of the woods better than I do, Billy Kirby,” returned Natty.
“You come in with the settlers, with an ox-goad in your hand, and I come in with moccasins on my feet, and with a good rifle on my shoulders, so long back as afore the old war.
Which is likely to know the best?
I say no man need tell me that snapping is as good as firing when I pull the trigger.”
“Leab it to Massa Jone,” said the alarmed negro; “he know eberyting.”
This appeal to the knowledge of Richard was too flattering to be unheeded.
He therefore advanced a little from the spot whither the delicacy of Elizabeth had induced her to withdraw, and gave the following opinion, with the gravity that the subject and his own rank demanded:
“There seems to be a difference in opinion,” he said, “on the subject of Nathaniel Bumppo’s right to shoot at Abraham Freeborn’s turkey without the said Nathaniel paying one shilling for the privilege.”
The fact was too evident to be denied, and after pausing a moment, that the audience might digest his premises, Richard proceeded:
“It seems proper that I should decide this question, as I am bound to preserve the peace of the county; and men with deadly weapons in their hands should not be heedlessly left to contention and their own malignant passions.
It appears that there was no agreement, either in writing or in words, on the disputed point; therefore we must reason from analogy, which is, as it were, comparing one thing with another.
Now, in duels, where both parties shoot, it is generally the rule that a snap is a fire; and if such is the rule where the party has a right to fire back again, it seems to me unreasonable to say that a man may stand snapping at a defenceless turkey all day.
I therefore am of the opinion that Nathaniel Bumppo has lost his chance, and must pay another shilling before he renews his right.”
As this opinion came from so high a quarter, and was delivered with effect, it silenced all murmurs—for the whole of the spectators had begun to take sides with great warmth—except from the Leather-Stocking himself.
“I think Miss Elizabeth’s thoughts should be taken,” said Natty.
“I’ve known the squaws give very good counsel when the Indians had been dumfounded.
If she says that I ought to lose, I agree to give it up.”
“Then I adjudge you to be a loser for this time,” said Miss Temple; “but pay your money and renew your chance; unless Brom will sell me the bird for a dollar.
I will give him the money, and save the life of the poor victim.”