"I'm in a peculiar situation," reflected the youth, as he fitted the same arrow to the string, "for I am to try to hit a target which I don't want to hit. I don't suppose there's much danger, but I would like to beat Hay-uta."
The latter walked to the stump of the limb on which hung the cap, but he showed his wisdom by dodging behind the trunk of a tree large enough to shield his body. Jack laughed when he observed him peeping timidly from behind this cover.
"I'll point a little to one side of my cap," reflected the youth, "and if I elevate my aim a little, as Deerfoot does, I ought to come pretty near it."
His manner of discharging the bow was similar to that of the Sauk. He slowly drew back his right hand, whose thumb and forefinger inclosed the arrow and string, until his strength was at the highest tension, when he let go.
The aim could not have been improved, for it was a "bull's eye". The flint-pointed shaft tore its way through the top of the cap, which was carried off its support and dropped to the ground with the feathered part of the missile sticking in the air.
Hay-uta ran from behind the tree, picked up the target with the head of the arrow tangled in it, and held up the two in view of the young Kentuckian, who viewed them with dismay.
"Great Cæsar!" he exclaimed, "I believe I've ruined my cap!"
But as that which had been done could not be undone, he put on the best face possible. He waved his hand and nodded his head, as though he was not unduly proud over his own success.
"That's the way I always manage those things," he said, loftily, "put it up again."
The Sauk saw what he meant and replaced the cap, from which he first drew the destructive arrow, with a good deal of recklessness as it seemed to the owner, who plainly caught the gleam of daylight through the top, when it slightly oscillated for a moment on its perch.