The Sure Shot.[1]
It is not alone in Bohemia’s mountainous regions that the romantic characters are found which form the [[12]]basis of Weber’s immortal fictions. Similar traditions are current in many lands, especially in ours, one of which we will now relate.
In the artless fancy of the peasantry the means of acquiring the power of unerring aim are many, the most usual by compact with the Fairies or Wood Nymphs. While the compact lasts the possessor, sitting at his hut door, needs only to wish, and the game of his choice springs into view, and within range of his never-failing gun. Such a compact, however, invariably ends in the destruction of the hunter.
Many years ago there was a watchman up in the Göinge regions, a wild fellow, who, one evening, while drinking with his neighbors, more tipsy and more talkative as the hour grew late, boasted loudly of his marksmanship, and offered to wager that, with his trusty gun, he could give them such an exhibition of skill as they had never before seen.
“There goes, as I speak,” said he, “a roe on Halland’s Mountains.”
His companions laughed at him, not believing that he could know what was transpiring at a distance of several miles, which was the least that lay between them and the spot indicated.
“I will wager you that I need go no farther than the door to shoot him for you,” persevered the watchman in defiant tones.
“Nonsense!” said the others.
“Come, will you wager something worth the while? Say two cans of ale.”
“Done! Two cans of ale, it shall be.” And the [[13]]company betook themselves to the yard in front of the hut.