This proposition was evidently but little relished by any of the listeners, even the negro feeling the evil excitement of the chances.
In the mean while, as Billy Kirby was preparing himself for another shot, Natty left the stand, with an extremely dissatisfied manner, muttering:
“There hasn’t been such a thing as a good flint sold at the foot of the lake since the Indian traders used to come into the country; and, if a body should go into the flats along the streams in the hills to hunt for such a thing, it’s ten to one but they will be all covered up with the plough.
Heigho! it seems to me that just as the game grows scarce, and a body wants the best ammunition to get a livelihood, everything that’s bad falls on him like a judgment.
But I’ll change the stone, for Billy Kirby hasn’t the eye for such a mark, I know.”
The wood-chopper seemed now entirely sensible that his reputation depended on his care; nor did he neglect any means to insure success.
He drew up his rifle, and renewed his aim again and again, still appearing reluctant to fire, No sound was heard from even Brom, during these portentous movements, until Kirby discharged his piece, with the same want of success as before.
Then, indeed, the shouts of the negro rang through the bushes and sounded among the trees of the neighboring forest like the outcries of a tribe of Indians. He laughed, rolling his head first on one side, then on the other, until nature seemed exhausted with mirth.
He danced until his legs were wearied with motion in the snow; and, in short, he exhibited all that violence of joy that characterizes the mirth of a thoughtless negro.
The wood-chopper had exerted all his art, and felt a proportionate degree of disappointment at the failure.
He first examined the bird with the utmost attention, and more than once suggested that he had touched its feathers; but the voice of the multitude was against him, for it felt disposed to listen to the often-repeated cries of the black to “gib a nigger fair play.”
Finding it impossible to make out a title to the bird, Kirby turned fiercely to the black and said:
“Shut your oven, you crow!
Where is the man that can hit a turkey’s head at a hundred yards?
I was a fool for trying.
You needn’t make an uproar like a falling pine-tree about it.
Show me the man who can do it.”
“Look this a-way, Billy Kirby,” said Leather-Stocking, “and let them clear the mark, and I’ll show you a man who’s made better shots afore now, and that when he’s been hard pressed by the savages and wild beasts.”
“Perhaps there is one whose rights come before ours, Leather-Stocking,” said Miss Temple.
“If so, we will waive our privilege.”
“If it be me that you have reference to,” said the young hunter, “I shall decline another chance.
My shoulder is yet weak, I find.”
Elizabeth regarded his manner, and thought that she could discern a tinge on his cheek that spoke the shame of conscious poverty.
She said no more, but suffered her own champion to make a trial.
Although Natty Bumppo had certainly made hundreds of more momentous shots at his enemies or his game, yet he never exerted himself more to excel.
He raised his piece three several times: once to get his range; once to calculate his distance; and once because the bird, alarmed by the death-like stillness, turned its head quickly to examine its foes.
But the fourth time he fired.
The smoke, the report, and the momentary shock prevented most of the spectators from instantly knowing the result; but Elizabeth, when she saw her champion drop the end of his rifle in the snow and open his mouth in one of its silent laughs, and then proceed very coolly to recharge his piece, knew that he had been successful.
The boys rushed to the mark, and lifted the turkey on high, lifeless, and with nothing but the remnant of a head.
“Bring in the creatur’,” said Leather-Stocking, “and put it at the feet of the lady.
I was her deputy in the matter, and the bird is her property.”
“And a good deputy you have proved yourself,” returned Elizabeth—“so good, Cousin Richard, that I would advise you to remember his qualities.”
She paused, and the gayety that beamed on her face gave place to a more serious earnestness. She even blushed a little as she turned to the young hunter, and with the charm of a woman’s manner added:
“But it was only to see an exhibition of the far-famed skill of Leather-Stocking, that I tried my fortunes.
Will you, sir, accept the bird as a small peace offering for the hurt that prevented your own success?”
The expression with which the youth received this present was indescribable, He appeared to yield to the blandishment of her air, in opposition to a strong inward impulse to the contrary.
He bowed, and raised the victim silently from her feet, but continued silent.
Elizabeth handed the black a piece of silver as a remuneration for his loss, which had some effect in again unbending his muscles, and then expressed to her companion her readiness to return homeward.
“Wait a minute, Cousin Bess,” cried Richard; “there is an uncertainty about the rules of this sport that it is proper I should remove.
If you will appoint a committee, gentlemen, to wait on me this morning, I will draw up in writing a set of regulations—’ He stopped, with some indignation, for at that instant a hand was laid familiarly on the shoulder of the High Sheriff of—.
“A merry Christmas to you, Cousin Dickon,” said Judge Temple, who had approached the party unperceived:
“I must have a vigilant eye to my daughter, sir, if you are to be seized daily with these gallant fits.
I admire the taste which would introduce a lady to such scenes!”
“It is her own perversity, ‘Duke,” cried the disappointed sheriff, who felt the loss of the first salutation as grievously as many a man would a much greater misfortune; “and I must say that she comes honestly by it.
I led her out to show her the improvements, but away she scampered, through the snow, at the first sound of fire-arms, the same as if she had been brought up in a camp, instead of a first-rate boarding-school.
I do think, Judge Temple, that such dangerous amusements should be suppressed, by statute; nay, I doubt whether they are not already indict able at common law.”
“Well, sir, as you are sheriff of the county, it becomes your duty to examine into the matter,” returned the smiling Marmaduke,
“I perceive that Bess has executed her commission, and I hope it met with a favorable reception.”
Richard glanced his eye at the packet which he held in his hand, and the slight anger produced by disappointment vanished instantly.
“Ah! ‘Duke, my dear cousin,” he said, “step a little on one side; I have something I would say to you.”