“‘There you are again,’ said Street, ‘that is a covered joke at a tailor being only the ninth part of one. I pass it over this time, but let’s have no more of it.’
“‘No, Sirree, no,’ said boss, ‘on honour now, I didn’t mean it. And I say, too, let there be no more of it.’”
“Not a bad story!” said the doctor. “A man ought to be able to take his own part in the world; but my idea is we think too much of guns. Do you know anything of archery?”
“A little,” sais I, “at least folks say so; but then they really give me credit for what I don’t deserve; they say I draw a thunderin’ long bow sometimes.”
“Oh! oh!” he said laughing, “positively, as the fellow said to the tailor, you’ll give me a stitch in my side. Well, that’s better than being ‘sewed up,’ as Jehu was last night. But, seriously, do you ever use the bow?”
“Well, I have tried the South American bow, and it’s a powerful weapon that; but it takes a man to draw it, I tell you.”
“Yes,” said he, “it requires a strong arm; but the exercise is good for the chest. It’s the one I generally use. The bow is a great weapon, and the oldest in the world. I believe I have a tolerable collection of them. The Indian bow was more or less excellent, according to the wood they had; but they never could have been worth much here, for the country produces no suitable material. The old English long-bow perhaps is a good one; but it is not so powerful as the Turkish. That has immense power. They say it will carry an arrow from four hundred and fifty to five hundred yards. Mine perhaps is not a first-rate one, nor am I what I call a skilful archer; but I can reach beyond three hundred yards—though that is an immense distance. The gun has superseded them; but though superior in many respects, the other has some qualities that are invaluable. In skirmishing, or in surprising outposts, what an advantage it is to avoid the alarm and noise occasioned by firearms. All troops engaged in this service in addition to the rifle ought to have the bow and the quiver. What an advantage it would have been in the Caffre war, and how serviceable now in the Crimea. They are light to carry and quickly discharged. When we get to my house I will prove it to you. We will set up two targets, at one hundred yards, say. You shall fire from one to the other, and then stand aside, and before you can reload I will put three arrows into yours. I should say four to a common soldier’s practice; but I give even you three to one. If a man misses his first shot at me with a gun, he is victimized, for I have three chances in return before he gets his second, and if I don’t pink him with one or the other—why, I deserve to be hit. For the same reason, what a glorious cavalry weapon it is, as the Parthians knew. What a splendid thing for an ambush, where you are neither seen nor heard. I don’t mean to say they are better than fire-arms; but, occasionally used with them they would be irresistible. If I were a British officer in command I would astonish the enemy.”
“You would astonish the Horse-Guards, too, I know,” said I. “It would ruin you for ever. They’d call you old ‘bows and arrows,’ as they did the general that had no flints to his guns, when he attacked Buonus Ayres; they’d have you up in ‘Punch;’ they’d draw you as Cupid going to war; they’d nickname you a Bow-street officer. Oh! they’d soon teach you what a quiver was. They’d play the devil with you. They’d beat you at your own game; you’d be stuck full of poisoned arrows. You could as easily introduce the queue again, as the bow.”
“Well, Cressy, Poictiers, and Agincourt were won with the bow,” he said, “and, as an auxiliary weapon, it is still as effective as ever. However that is not a mere speculation. When I go out after cariboo, I always carry mine, and seldom use my gun. It don’t alarm the herd; they don’t know where the shaft comes from, and are as likely to look for it in the lake or in the wild grass as anywhere else. Let us try them together. But let us load with shot now. We shall come to the brook directly, and where it spreads out into still water, and the flags grow, the wild fowl frequent; for they are amazin’ fond of poke-lokeins, as the Indians call those spots. We may get a brace or two perhaps to take home with us. Come, let us push ahead, and go warily.”
After awhile a sudden turn of the road disclosed to us a flock of blue-winged ducks, and he whispered, “Do you fire to the right, and I will take the left.” When the smoke from our simultaneous discharges cleared away, we saw the flock rise, leaving five of their number as victims of their careless watch.