I'm using Jasper's rifle, Quartermaster, as you may see, and that is no better than your own."Lieutenant Muir was now obliged to acquiesce, and every eye turned towards the Pathfinder, as he took the required station.The air and attitude of this celebrated guide and hunter were extremely fine, as he raised his tall form and levelled the piece, showing perfect self-command, and a through knowledge of the power of the human frame as well as of the weapon.Pathfinder was not what is usually termed a handsome man, though his appearance excited so much confidence and commanded respect.Tall, and even muscular, his frame might have been esteemed nearly per-fect, were it not for the total absence of everything like flesh.Whipcord was scarcely more rigid than his arms and legs, or, at need, more pliable; but the outlines of his person were rather too angular for the proportion that the eye most approves.Still, his motions, being natural, were graceful, and, being calm and regulated, they gave him an air and dignity that associated well with the idea, which was so prevalent, of his services and peculiar merits.His honest, open features were burnt to a bright red, that comported well with the notion of exposure and hardships, while his sinewy hands denoted force, and a species of use removed from the stiffening and deforming effects of labor.Although no one perceived any of those gentler or more insinuating qualities which are apt to win upon a woman's affections, as he raised his rifle not a female eye was fastened on him without a silent approbation of the freedom of his movements and the manliness of his air.
Thought was scarcely quicker than his aim; and, as the smoke floated above his head, the butt-end of the rifle was seen on the ground, the hand of the Pathfinder was lean-ing on the barrel, and his honest countenance was illu-minated by his usual silent, hearty laugh.
"If one dared to hint at such a thing," cried Major Duncan, "I should say that the Pathfinder had also missed the target.""No, no, Major," returned the guide confidently; "that _would_ be a risky declaration.I didn't load the piece, and can't say what was in it; but if it was lead, you will find the bullet driving down those of the Quartermaster and Jasper, else is not my name Pathfinder."A shout from the target announced the truth of this assertion.
"That's not all, that's not all, boys," called out the guide, who was now slowly advancing towards the stage occupied by the females; "if you find the target touched at all, I'll own to a miss.The Quartermaster cut the wood, but you'll find no wood cut by that last messenger.""Very true, Pathfinder, very true," answered Muir, who was lingering near Mabel, though ashamed to address her particularly in the presence of the officers' wives."The Quartermaster did cut the wood, and by that means he opened a passage for your bullet, which went through the hole he had made.""Well, Quartermaster, there goes the nail and we'll see who can drive it closer, you or I; for, though I did not think of showing what a rifle can do to-day, now my hand is in, I'll turn my back to no man that carries King George's commission.Chingachgook is outlying, or he might force me into some of the niceties of the art; but, as for you, Quartermaster, if the nail don't stop you, the potato will.""You're over boastful this morning, Pathfinder; but you'll find you've no green boy fresh from the settlements and the towns to deal with, I will assure ye!""I know that well, Quartermaster; I know that well, and shall not deny your experience.You've lived many years on the frontiers, and I've heard of you in the col-onies, and among the Indians, too, quite a human life ago.""Na, na," interrupted Muir in his broadest Scotch, "this is injustice, man.I've no' lived so very long, neither.""I'll do you justice, Lieutenant, even if you get the best in the potato trial.I say you've passed a good human life, for a soldier, in places where the rifle is daily used, and Iknow you are a creditable and ingenious marksman; but then you are not a true rifle-shooter.As for boasting, Ihope I'm not a vain talker about my own exploits; but a man's gifts are his gifts, and it's flying in the face of Prov-idence to deny them.The Sergeant's daughter, here, shall judge between us, if you have the stomach to submit to so pretty a judge."The Pathfinder had named Mabel as the arbiter because he admired her, and because, in his eyes, rank had little or no value; but Lieutenant Muir shrank at such a reference in the presence of the wives of the officers.He would gladly keep himself constantly before the eyes and the imagination of the object of his wishes; but he was still too much under the influence of old prejudices, and per-haps too wary, to appear openly as her suitor, unless he saw something very like a certainty of success.On the discretion of Major Duncan he had a full reliance, and he apprehended no betrayal from that quarter; but he was quite aware, should it ever get abroad that he had been refused by the child of a non-commissioned officer, he would find great difficulty in making his approaches to any other woman of a condition to which he might reasonably aspire.Notwithstanding these doubts and misgivings, Mabel looked so prettily, blushed so charmingly, smiled so sweetly, and altogether presented so winning a picture of youth, spirit, modesty, and beauty, that he found it ex-ceedingly tempting to be kept so prominently before her imagination, and to be able to address her freely.
