"Well, I've shot the 'shoots' at Coney Island, and have practiced at hitting the bull's-eye in the galleries at that gay resort until I can ring the bell every time, but that is the extent of my experience," and Mr. Kent looked a little wistful. "I'd be mighty glad of some pointers from any of you that have had more."
"Well, point your gun, barrel down," tweedled the twins.
"Ah, so, I see," he said, grasping his gun in a more sportsmanlike manner, and all of us breathed a sigh of relief. I had been in terror for fear he might ring a b-e-l-l-e or hit some eye not in a bull ever since we left Aunt Rosana's cabin. "I'm awfully green," continued the young man, modestly. "I cut a poorer figure turned loose here in the country than old Uncle Peter would on the Great White Way."
"Not a bit of it," said Mr. Tucker kindly. He seemed rather impressed by Mr. Kent's frankness and modesty. Indeed, the young New Yorker could not cut a poor figure anywhere. He was well grown and sturdy and had an athletic swing to his walk due not only to much work in a gymnasium but to the "magnificent distances" he had been compelled to walk in New York.
I have noticed that town-bred persons as a rule walk much better than country-bred. When they get on rough ground they walk as though it were smooth, while country people when they strike pavements look as though they were still getting over plowed ground. Reginald Kent, if he did not know how to carry a gun, knew how to carry himself. With shoulders back, chin in and head well up, he stepped along like a West Pointer; while Jo Winn slouched with shoulders bent and head forward.
We chatted away very merrily until we came to the creek where the party was to separate. There was not much chance of any game, big or little, with such a crowd tramping through the woods. It was agreed that Father, Mr. Tucker and Jo Winn should cross the creek and go on to the river, where they were to take a skiff, owned by old Uncle Peter and kept moored at a certain spot, known to Father; from there they were to go into the marshes; and, later on, come down the river and join us at the mouth of the creek. We were to keep on straight down the creek with Uncle Peter and Mr. Kent, who earnestly desired to stay and "take care" of the ladies.
"I'm going to change my loads for rabbits," said Dee, suiting the action to the word. "This big shot would tear a rabbit all to pieces and I believe we are more apt to see rabbits than deer."
Mr. Kent followed suit but Dum kept "loaded fur b'ar," as she expressed it. Dee soon got a rabbit, which she wept over.
"She always does that," explained Dum. "She shoots things for the love of shooting and then bawls because she has taken an innocent life."
We had one of Jo's dogs with us. The other two had gone with the three men to stalk the possible deer. Our dog started up several rabbits and Mr. Kent joyously got two of them.