Volume IV Part 11 (1/2)

But this was a match of rifles exclusively; and these are by far the most common at this time.

Most of the compet.i.tors fire at the same target; which is usually a board from nine inches to a foot wide, charred on one side as black as it can be made by fire, without impairing materially the uniformity of its surface; on the darkened side of which is _pegged_ a square piece of white paper, which is larger or smaller, according to the distance at which it is to be placed from the marksmen. This is almost invariably sixty yards, and for it the paper is reduced to about two and a half inches square. Out of the center of it is cut a rhombus of about the width of an inch, measured diagonally; this is the _bull's-eye_, or _diamond_, as the marksmen choose to call it; in the center of this is the cross. But every man is permitted to fix his target to his own taste; and accordingly, some remove one-fourth of the paper, cutting from the center of the square to the two lower corners, so as to leave a large angle opening from the center downward; while others reduce the angle more or less: but it is rarely the case that all are not satisfied with one of these figures.

The beef is divided into five prizes, or, as they are commonly termed, five _quarters_--the hide and tallow counting as one. For several years after the revolutionary war, a sixth was added: the _lead_ which was shot in the match. This was the prize of the sixth best shot; and it used to be carefully extracted from the board or tree in which it was lodged, and afterward remoulded. But this grew out of the exigency of the times, and has, I believe, been long since abandoned everywhere.

The three master shots and rivals were Moses Firmby, Larkin Spivey and Billy Curlew; to whom was added, upon this occasion, by common consent and with awful forebodings, your humble servant.

The target was fixed at an elevation of about three feet from the ground; and the judges (Captain Turner and 'Squire Porter) took their stands by it, joined by about half the spectators.

The first name on the catalogue was Mealy Whitecotton. Mealy stepped out, rifle in hand, and toed the mark. His rifle was about three inches longer than himself, and near enough his own thickness to make the remark of Darby Chislom, as he stepped out, tolerably appropriate: ”Here comes the corn-stalk and the sucker!” said Darby.

”Kiss my foot!” said Mealy. ”The way I'll creep into that bull's-eye's a fact.”

”You'd better creep into your hind sight,” said Darby. Mealy raised and fired.

”A pretty good shot, Mealy!” said one.

”Yes, a blamed good shot!” said a second.

”Well done, Meal!” said a third.

I was rejoiced when one of the company inquired, ”Where is it?” for I could hardly believe they were founding these remarks upon the evidence of their senses.

”Just on the right-hand side of the bull's-eye,” was the reply.

I looked with all the power of my eyes, but was unable to discover the least change in the surface of the paper. Their report, however, was true; so much keener is the vision of a practiced than an unpracticed eye.

The next in order was Hiram Baugh. Hiram was like some race-horses which I have seen; he was too good not to contend for every prize, and too good for nothing ever to win one.

”Gentlemen,” said he, as he came to the mark, ”I don't say that I'll win beef; but if my piece don't blow, I'll eat the paper, or be mighty apt to do it, if you'll b'lieve my racket. My powder are not good powder, gentlemen; I bought it _thum_ (from) Zeb Daggett, and gin him three-quarters of a dollar a pound for it; but it are not what I call good powder, gentlemen; but if old Buck-killer burns it clear, the boy you call Hiram Baugh eat's paper, or comes mighty near it.”

”Well, blaze away,” said Mealy, ”and be d----d to you, and Zeb Daggett, and your powder, and Buck-killer, and your powder-horn and shot-pouch to boot! How long you gwine stand thar talking 'fore you shoot?”

”Never mind,” said Hiram, ”I can talk a little and shoot a little, too, but that's nothin'. Here goes!”

Hiram a.s.sumed the figure of a note of interrogation, took a long sight, and fired.

”I've eat paper,” said he, at the crack of the gun, without looking, or seeming to look, toward the target. ”Buck-killer made a clear racket.

Where am I, gentlemen?”

”You're just between Mealy and the diamond,” was the reply.

”I said I'd eat paper, and I've done it; haven't I, gentlemen?”

”And 'spose you have!” said Mealy, ”what do that 'mount to? You'll not win beef, and never did.”

”Be that as it mout be, I've beat Meal 'Cotton mighty easy; and the boy you call Hiram Baugh are able to do it.”

”And what do that 'mount to? Who the devil an't able to beat Meal 'Cotton! I don't make no pretense of bein' nothin' great, no how; but you always makes out as if you were gwine to keep 'em makin' crosses for you constant, and then do nothin' but '_eat paper_' at last; and that's a long way from _eatin' beef_, 'cordin' to Meal 'Cotton's notions, as you call him.”

Simon Stow was now called on.