Garey, drawing a long breath, planted himself firmly, the heel of his left foot opposite to, and some inches in advance of, the hollow of his right. Then, jerking up his gun, and throwing the barrel across his left palm, he cried out to his comrade—
“Steady, ole bone an’ sinyer! hyar’s at ye!”
The words were scarcely out when the gun was levelled. There was a moment’s death-like silence, all eyes looking to the mark. Then came the crack, and the shell was seen to fly, shivered into fifty fragments! There was a cheer from the crowd. Old Rube stopped to pick up one of the pieces, and after examining it for a moment, shouted in a loud voice;—
“Plumb centre, by—!”
The young trapper had, in effect, hit the mark in the very centre, as the blue stain of the bullet testified.
Chapter Twenty One.
A Feat à la Tell.
All eyes were turned upon the strange Indian. During the scene described he has stood silent, and calmly looking on. His eye now wanders over the ground, apparently in search of an object.