Volume IV Part 10 (1/2)

”Not exactly,” replied he, surveying my horse with a quizzical smile; ”I haven't been a driving _by myself_ for a year or two; and my nose has got so bad lately, I can't carry a cold trail _without hounds to help me_.”

Alone, and without hounds as he was, the question was rather a silly one; but it answered the purpose for which it was put, which was only to draw him into conversation, and I proceeded to make as decent a retreat as I could.

”I didn't know,” said I, ”but that you were going to meet the huntsmen, or going to your stand.”

”Ah, sure enough,” rejoined he, ”that _mout_ be a bee, as the old woman said when she killed a wasp. It seems to me I ought to know you.”

”Well, if you _ought_, why _don't_ you?”

”What _mout_ your name be?”

”It _might_ be anything,” said I, with a borrowed wit, for I knew my man and knew what kind of conversation would please him most.

”Well, what _is_ it, then?”

”It _is_ Hall,” said I; ”but you know it might as well have been anything else.”

”Pretty digging!” said he. ”I find you're not the fool I took you to be; so here's to a better acquaintance with you.”

”With all my heart,” returned I; ”but you must be as clever as I've been, and give me your name.”

”To be sure I will, my old c.o.o.n; take it, take it, and welcome. Anything else about me you'd like to have?”

”No,” said I, ”there's nothing else about you worth having.”

”Oh, yes there is, stranger! Do you see this?” holding up his ponderous rifle with an ease that astonished me. ”If you will go with me to the shooting-match, and see me knock out the _bull's-eye_ with her a few times, you'll agree the old _Soap-stick's_ worth something when Billy Curlew puts his shoulder to her.”

This short sentence was replete with information to me. It taught me that my companion was _Billy Curlew_; that he was going to a _shooting-match_; that he called his rifle the _Soap-stick_, and that he was very confident of winning beef with her; or, which is nearly, but not quite the same thing, _driving the cross with her_.

”Well,” said I, ”if the shooting-match is not too far out of my way, I'll go to it with pleasure.”

”Unless your way lies through the woods from here,” said Billy, ”it'll not be much out of your way; for it's only a mile ahead of us, and there is no other road for you to take till you get there; and as that thing you're riding in ain't well suited to fast traveling among brushy k.n.o.bs, I reckon you won't lose much by going by. I reckon you hardly ever was at a shooting-match, stranger, from the cut of your coat?”

”Oh, yes,” returned I, ”many a time. I won beef at one when I was hardly old enough to hold a shot-gun off-hand.”

”_Children_ don't go to shooting-matches about here,” said he, with a smile of incredulity. ”I never heard of but one that did, and he was a little _swinge_ cat. He was born a shooting, and killed squirrels before he was weaned.”

”Nor did _I_ ever hear of but one,” replied I, ”and that one was myself.”

”And where did you win beef so young, stranger?”

”At Berry Adams's.”

”Why, stop, stranger, let me look at you good! Is your name _Lyman_ Hall?”

”The very same,” said I.

”Well, dang my b.u.t.tons, if you ain't the very boy my daddy used to tell me about. I was too young to recollect you myself; but I've heard daddy talk about you many a time. I believe mammy's got a neck-handkerchief now that daddy won on your shooting at Collen Reid's store, when you were hardly knee high. Come along, Lyman, and I'll go my death upon you at the shooting-match, with the old Soap-stick at your shoulder.”

”Ah, Billy,” said I, ”the old Soap-stick will do much better at your own shoulder. It was my mother's notion that sent me to the shooting-match at Berry Adams's; and, to tell the honest truth, it was altogether a chance shot that made me win beef; but that wasn't generally known; and most everybody believed that I was carried there on account of my skill in shooting; and my fame was spread far and wide, I well remember. I remember, too, perfectly well, your father's bet on me at the store.

_He_ was at the shooting-match, and nothing could make him believe but that I was a great shot with a rifle as well as a shot-gun. Bet he would on me, in spite of all I could say, though I a.s.sured him that I had never shot a rifle in my life. It so happened, too, that there were but two bullets, or, rather, a bullet and a half; and so confident was your father in my skill, that he made me shoot the half bullet; and, strange to tell, by another chance shot, I like to have drove the cross and won his bet.”