A hush fell upon the crowd; and as a boy nimbly ascended the oak and liberated the squirrel, the master of ceremonies spoke.
“Men, it was a good shot. And, now, speak up. Can any of you do the like?”
Eph and the old hunter were shaking their heads when Daniel Boone stepped forward.
“The brave,” said Boone, slowly, “has made a good shot. No one will gainsay that. But it was a trick.”
All eyes were upon him; Long Panther gave him a look of fierce disdain.
“The shot,” said the young warrior, “was fair, and was seen by all.”
Boone nodded.
“But for all that it was a trick,” said he. “It was a shot that can be made only with an arrow. A marksman can’t pin a squirrel to a tree trunk with a rifle bullet, Long Panther, as you know very well.”
A murmur went up from the whites; there was an eager assent to this way of looking at the matter.
“But,” continued Boone, coolly, “you said that if any of us could do as well, you’d admit yourself beaten.” He balanced his heavy rifle in his strong hands, a smile upon his bronzed face. “Very well. To equal your trick shot which cannot be done with a rifle, I will do one which can’t be done with an arrow.”