“The ongrateful scamp!” said his father, to himself. “He’s gone an’ spent six bits to go into the shootin’ match arter all. He ain’t fit to have money, he throws it about so scandalous. I’ll take keer that he don’t throw away no more.”
For the benefit of our city readers, who may like to know something of the sports and pastimes of those whose means of recreation are not so abundant as their own, we will tell how a shooting match is conducted in the South and West. In the first place, we are glad to say that it is very different from turkey shooting as carried on in the Northern States. In the latter there is no sport whatever. The luckless turkey is tied to a stump, so that it has no chance for life, and the marksmen station themselves at distances varying from one to two hundred and fifty yards, and shoot at it, until some one kills or wounds it. It is a cruel practice, and no boy or man either who has the least spark of humanity or love of fair play in him, will engage in it.
The Shooting-Match.
In the shooting matches of which we speak, the contestants do not shoot at the game, but at a mark. Each one provides himself with a piece of board, which is held over a fire until one side of it is thoroughly blackened. Upon this blackened surface a cross, like the sign +, is made with the point of a knife. The place where these two lines intersect is called the centre; and as it is no larger than the point of a pin, you can easily imagine how much skill is required to make a “dead-centre” shot. On this centre, to show where it is, is placed a piece of white paper—it may be half an inch or three or six inches square, as the shooter prefers—which is held in its place by a tack or wooden pin. The contestants then station themselves forty or sixty yards away, according as they want to shoot off-hand or with a rest, and the sport begins. The one who makes the best shot takes the first choice of the prizes, whatever they may be; the one who makes the second best, takes the second choice; and so on until all the prizes are gone.
These prizes may be turkeys, chickens or pigs; but beef is shot for more than anything else. Whatever the article is, it is furnished by some one of the contestants who sets a price upon it, and collects of each one who participates in the shooting an equal part of the amount. Thus, if a beef worth twenty dollars is shot for and there are twenty contestants, each one pays the owner a dollar. In this case there are six prizes—the two hind-quarters, the two fore-quarters, the hide and tallow, and the lead that is shot into the tree against which the boards are placed. The last prize is of no small value sometimes, especially to men who live four or five miles from a store. If there are twenty contestants and each one shoots a dozen times, the chunk of lead which will be cut out of the tree by the one who wins it, will furnish bullets enough to last him a year. As soon as the shooting is over the beef is killed, and each one takes whatever he may have been skilful enough to win.
This was the kind of a match that Dan and his father attended; and the result of it was not a little surprising to the latter. If it had not been for Dan’s good shooting, the two would have been obliged to return home empty-handed. Godfrey’s great skill with the rifle, of which he so often boasted, was not made apparent on this particular day. He got nothing, but Dan won a prize. He made four centres, but three of them had to be placed against the same number of centres made by other marksmen. When that had been done the boy had still one centre left, and that entitled him to the first choice. Dan was highly elated, and his father was correspondingly enraged.
“The ungrateful rascal,” said Godfrey to himself, “to come here an’ shoot agin’ his poor ole pop what’s done so much fur him, an’ make me take a back seat! I eddicated that boy myself. I larnt him how to handle a rifle, and now I wish I hadn’t done it, kase this is the kind of pay I get fur it. I’ll take mighty good keer that he don’t get no more seventy-five cents to spend at shootin’ matches. It beats all natur’ whar he got that wad of money, an’ if I had another dollar I’d give it to know!”
But Godfrey said nothing. He knew that if he spoke as he felt, it would put Dan on his guard, and that might lead to the derangement of certain plans he had formed. So he laughed at the witty things that were said to him about being beaten by his own son, and when some one complimented Dan on the skill he had exhibited, his father said it might have been expected, for the boy was simply a chip of the old block.
“I’m monstrous proud of ye, Dannie,” said Godfrey, as the two wended their way toward home after the shooting was over; “monstrous proud. It done me good to see them ole fellers look wild when ye made them centres so handy, one arter t’other. I’m a trifle sorry that ye spent yer money so scandalous foolish, but it can’t be helped now. ’Tain’t the way to get rich, Dannie, that ar way aint, an’ I hope ye won’t do it no more.”