SHOOTING IN THE FOREST AND BEING SHOT.
Before supper-time, the mule team came in with a load of game. Washburn had gone out with the sportsmen this time, for during my absence he would not leave the steamer for a moment. I counted seventeen deer, the smallest kind I had ever seen, and twenty-one wild turkeys. The next day the sport was resumed, and I joined the party. At the suggestion of Colonel Shepard, we took a couple of landing-nets, though what for I could not imagine. But we had not gone half a mile before I discovered the use of them.
The woods were full of young quails, which in the South are called partridges, the latter taking the name of pheasants. These quails ran in flocks of a dozen or less, and with the landing-nets we could cover the whole brood. We gathered them up, and put them into a large basket, with a cover, which we had brought with us for the purpose.
We went several miles farther south than the party of the day before had gone; and the shooting was so abundant as to be "rather too much of a good thing." Before noon we had all we wanted, and it seemed to be wicked to shoot any more. The sportsmen from Enterprise had not been up as far as this, and the game had hardly ever been disturbed in its haunts.
I was tired of the sport before the others, and I started back for the mule team about eleven. I was within two miles of the landing, as I judged, for we had to estimate all our distances, when I heard the crack of a revolver or a rifle. At the same instant I felt a burning sensation in the back of the neck. I placed my hand upon the place, and found that a ball had just grazed it. My hand was covered with blood when I removed it.
I expected another shot would follow immediately, and I raised my gun, which was loaded with ball, and looked about me. I deemed it prudent to dodge behind a magnolia, of which there was an occasional one in the forest. I could judge from the situation of the wound on my neck from what direction the ball had come. My getting behind the tree had deranged the calculations of the intended assassin. He stood at a distance of not more than sixty feet from me, pointing a rifle towards me.
It was Griffin Leeds.
Though I could have shot him, I preferred to be killed rather than to kill. But before I could do anything, or even consider what to do, another actor appeared on the stage. I saw Griffin Leeds look behind him once, as though he feared an interruption, and doubtless he heard the step of the third person. Until the stranger was close upon the octoroon, I had not seen him. In the soft sand that formed the soil of the forest, one could hardly hear the sounds of approaching footsteps.
The stranger stepped from behind a large pine-tree, and before I had recovered from my surprise at his appearance, he fell upon Griffin Leeds, handling him with an ease that astonished me. He flung him on the ground like an unclean bird, and then pointed his own rifle at his head.
It was entirely safe for me under these circumstances to leave my hiding-place, and I walked towards the scene of the last encounter. I kept my gun in position for use, though I was not at all inclined to fire upon a human being. I wondered who had thus interfered to save me from the bullet of Griffin Leeds. Then I wondered how Griffin Leeds happened to be in the woods, miles above the head of ordinary navigation. I thought of my wound, and placed my hand upon it. It was beginning to feel very sore, and the blood was still flowing very freely from it. I bound my handkerchief around my neck, but I found it difficult to cover the place.