"They are very hard to hit," remarked Terry, "and only a good marksman can hit one of them on the wing."
"Mr. Olcott, I have read in the papers about you and Mr. Fearnot being the best marksmen in the country. Couldn't you kill one of them?"
"Yes, easily, and if you want a wing to place in your hat I will procure it for you."
"I would like to have one so that I could examine the feathers."
"Wait, then, until I can get my revolver and I'll bring one down on deck here so that you can examine it to your satisfaction." So he went to his room and soon returned with his revolver.
"Now, let's get out on the middle of the deck and wait until one of the gulls flies over us, then he will drop down on the deck and he can be your prize."
He waited for about fifteen minutes before a gull flew directly overhead, and then he quickly raised his revolver and fired. The bullet actually cut the bird's head off and it fell fluttering to the deck.
Of course, the marksmanship created quite a sensation among the passengers every one of whom exclaimed that it was an accident, and that the gentleman might fire one hundred times again without bringing down another bird, but not one of them thought to ask the name of the gentleman who had fired the shot, for the ladies gathered around to examine the beautiful plumage of the gull.
There were two or three ladies on board who had wing feathers of the same kind in their hats, and some of them insisted on comparing the wings of the dead gull with some found on the hats of the ladies.
Naturally a dispute arose among them as to whether or not those on the hat were the same kind as those of the dead bird. Some, of course, were larger than others.