"Tell you what, stranger," said one, "you're too hard for us all here.
We never _hearn_ o' that sort o' shoot'n' in these parts."

"Well," returned I, "you've seen it now, and I'm the boy that can do
it."

The judges were now approaching with the target, and a singular
combination of circumstances had kept all my party in utter ignorance of
the result of my shot. Those about the target had been prepared by Billy
Curlew for a great shot from me; their expectations had received
assurance from the courtesy which had been extended to me; and nothing
had happened to disappoint them but the single caution to them against
the "dry gripes," which was as likely to have been given in irony as in
earnest; for my agonies under the weight of the Soap-stick were either
imperceptible to them at the distance of sixty yards, or, being visible,
were taken as the flourishes of an expert who wished to "astonish the
natives." The other party did not think the direction of my ball worth
the trouble of a question; or if they did, my airs and harangue had put
the thought to flight before it was delivered. Consequently, they were
all transfixed with astonishment when the judges presented the target to
them, and gravely observed, "It's only second best, after all the fuss."

"Second best!" exclaimed I, with uncontrollable transports.

The whole of my party rushed to the target to have the evidence of their
senses before they would believe the report; but most marvelous fortune
decreed that it should be true. Their incredulity and astonishment were
most fortunate for me; for they blinded my hearers to the real feelings
with which the exclamation was uttered, and allowed me sufficient time
to prepare myself for making the best use of what I had said before with