“Well, I suppose he must.”
“W’ereas,” continued Jerry, “a man who goes a-shootin’ with a blunderbuss don’t require no such qualification—that’s w’ere it is, sir.”
“D’you mean to say that you can’t shoot?” asked Rivers, with a look of surprise.
“No more, sir,” replied Jerry with emphasis, “than the weathercock of a Dutch Reformed Church. Of course I know ’ow to load—powder first, ball or shot arterwards; it’s usually gravel with me, that bein’, so to speak, ’andy and cheap. An’ I knows w’ich end o’ the piece to putt to my shoulder, likewise ’ow to pull the trigger, but of more than that I’m hinnocent as the babe unborn. Ah! you may laugh, sir, but after all I’m a pretty sure shot. Indeed I seldom miss, because I putt in such a ’eavy charge, and the ’buss scatters so fearfully that it’s all but impossible to miss—unless you fairly turn your back on the game and fires in the opposite direction.”
“You’re a pleasant hunting companion!” said Rivers. “Do you know the importance of always keeping the muzzle of your gun away from the unfortunate fellow you chance to be shooting with?”
“Ho, yes, sir. The dangerous natur’ of my weapon is so great that I’ve adopted the plan of always walking, as you see, with what the milingtary call ‘shouldered arms,’ which endangers nothin’ but the sky—includin’ the planetory system—except w’en I ’appens to fall, w’en, of course, it’s every man lookout for hisself. But there’s one consolation for you, sir,—my blunderbuss don’t go off easy. It takes two pulls of the trigger, mostly, to bring fire out o’ the flint, and as I often forget to prime—there’s a third safeguard in that, so to speak.”
Further converse was interrupted by the sudden bursting of a duiker, or large antelope, from a thicket close beside them. Both sportsmen levelled their pieces, but, the jungle there being dense, the animal vanished before either could fire. With the eager haste of tyros, however, they ran stumbling after it until they came to an open stretch of ground which led them to the edge of a small plain. Here they simultaneously discovered that no duiker was to be seen, though they observed a troop of quaggas far out of range, and a hartebeest in the distance. The former, observing them, kicked up their heels, and dashed away into the mountains. The latter, a handsome creature, the size of an average pony and fleet as a stag, bounded into the jungle.
“No use going after these,” said Rivers, with a wistful gaze.
“No, sir,—none w’atever.”
“Better keep to the jungle and be ready next time,” said the young sportsman. “We mustn’t talk, Jerry.”