Part 17 (1/2)

”That we can do easily enough,” said Archer, ”what do you say, Tom? Is it worth while?”

”Why,” answered old Draw instantly, ”if so be only we could be sartain that the darned critter warn't lyin', there couldn't be no doubt about it; for if the buck did lay up there this night, why he'll be there to-morrow; and if so be he's there, why we can get him sure!”

”Well, Jem, what have you got to say now,” said the Commodore; ”is it the truth or no?”

”Why, darn it all,” retorted Jem, ”harn't I just told you it was true; it's most blamed hard a fellow can't be believed now--why, Mr. Aircher, did I ever lie to you?”

”Oh! if you ask me that,” said Harry, ”you know I must say 'Yes!'--for you have, fifty times at the least computation. Do you remember the day you towed me up the Decker's run to look for woodc.o.c.k?”

”And you found nothing,” interrupted Tom, ”but...”

”Oh shut up, do, Tom,” broke in Forester, ”and let us hear about this buck. If we agree to give you a five dollar bill, Jem, in case we do find him where you say, what will you be willing to forfeit if we do not?”

”You may shoot at me!” answered Jem, ”all on you--ivery one on you--at forty yards, with rifle or buckshot!”

”It certainly is very likely that we should be willing to get hanged for the sake of shooting such a mangy hound as you Jem,” answered Forester, ”when one could shoot a good clean dog--Tom's Dash, for example--for nothing!”

”Could you though?” Tom replied, ”I'd like to catch you at it, my dear boy--I'd wax the little hide off of you. But come, let us be settling.

Is it a lie now, Jem; speak out--is it a lie, consarn you? for if it be, you'd best jest say 't out now, and save your bones to-morrow. Well, boys, the critter's sulky, so most like it is true--and I guess we'll be arter him. We'll be up bright and airly, and go a horseback, and if he be there, we can kill him in no time at all, and be right back to breakfast. I'll start Jem and the captain here, and Dave Seers, with the dogs, an hour afore us! and let them come right down the swale, and drive him to the open--Harry and Forester, you two can ride your own nags, and I'll take old Roan, and A--- here shall have the colt.”

”Very well! Timothy, did they feed well to-night? if they did, give them their oats very early, and no water. I know it's too bad after their work to-day, but we shall not be out two hours!”

”Weel! it's no matter gin they were oot six,” responded Timothy, ”they wadna be a pin the waur o't!”

”Take out my rifle, then--and pick some buckshot cartridges to fit the bore of all the double guns. Frank's got his rifle; so you can take my heavy single gun--your gauge is 17, A---, quite too small for buckshot; mine is 11, and will do its work clean with Ely's cartridge and pretty heavy powder, at eighty-five to ninety yards. Tom's bore is twelve, and I've brought some to fit his old double, and some, too, for my own gun, though it is almost too small!”

”What gauge is yours, Harry?”

”Fourteen; which I consider the very best bore possible for general shooting. I think the gunsmiths are running headlong now into the opposite of their old error--when they found that fifteens and fourteens outshot vastly the old small calibres--fifty years since no guns were larger than eighteen, and few than twenty; they are now quite out-doing it. I have seen late-imported guns of seven pounds, and not above twenty-six inches long, with eleven and even ten gauge calibres! you might as well shoot with a blunderbus at once!”

”They would tell at c.o.c.k in close summer covert,” answered A---.

”For a man who can't cover his bird they might,” replied Harry; ”but you may rely on it they lose three times as much in force as they gain in the s.p.a.ce they cover; at forty yards you could not kill even a woodc.o.c.k with them once in fifty times, and a quail, or English snipe, at that distance never!”

”What do you think the right length and weight, then, for an eleven bore?”

”Certainly not less than nine pounds, and thirty inches; but I would prefer ten pounds and thirty-three inches; though, except for a fowl-gun to use in boat-shooting, such a piece would be quite too ponderous and clumsy. My single gun is eleven gauge, eight pounds and thirty-three inches; and even with loose shot executes superbly; but with Ely's green cartridge I have put forty BB shot into a square of two and a half feet at one hundred and twenty-five yards; sharply enough, too, to imbed the shot so firmly in the fence against which I had fixed my mark, that it required a good strong knife to get them out. This I propose that you should use to-morrow, with a 1 1/2 oz. SG cartridge, which contains eighteen buck-shot, and which, if you get a shot any where within a hundred yards, will kill him as dead, I warrant it, as an ounce bullet.”

”Which you intend to try, I fancy,” added Frank.

”Not quite! my rifle carries eighteen only to the pound; and yours, if I forget not, only thirty-two.”

”But mine is double.”

”Never mind that; thirty-two will not execute with certainty above a hundred and fifty yards!”

”And how far in the devil's name would you have it execute, as you calls it,” asked old Tom.

”Three hundred!” replied Harry, coolly.