ey? Come on,
youngster, an' take yer shot."

The youth came forward with evident reluctance. "It's of no manner o'
use," he whispered to Joe Blunt as he passed, "I can't depend on my old
gun."

"Never give in," whispered Blunt encouragingly. Poor Varley's want of
confidence in his rifle was merited, for, on pulling the trigger, the
faithless lock missed fire.

"Lend him another gun," cried several voices. "'Gainst rules laid down
by Major Hope," said Scraggs.

"Well, so it is; try again."

Varley did try again, and so successfully, too, that the ball hit the
nail on the head, leaving a portion of the lead sticking to its edge.

Of course this was greeted with a cheer, and a loud dispute began as to
which was the better shot of the two.

"There are others to shoot yet," cried the major. "Make way. Look
out."

The men fell back, and the few hunters who had not yet fired took their
shots, but without coming nearer the mark.

It was now agreed that Jim Scraggs and Dick Varley, being the two best
shots, should try over again; and it was also agreed that Dick should
have the use of Blunt's rifle. Lots were again drawn for the first
shot, and it fell to Dick, who immediately stepped out, aimed somewhat
hastily, and fired.

"Hit again!" shouted those who had run forward to examine the mark.
"_Half_ the bullet cut off by the nail-head!"

Some of the more enthusiastic of Dick's friends cheered lustily, but the
most of the hunters were grave and silent, for they knew Jim's powers,
and felt that he would certainly do his best. Jim now stepped up to the
line, and, looking earnestly at the mark, threw forward his rifle.

At that moment our friend Crusoe--tired of tormenting his mother--
waddled stupidly and innocently into the midst of the crowd of men, and,
in so doing, received Henri's heel and the full weight of his
elephantine body on its fore-paw. The horrible and electric yell that
instantly issued from his agonised throat could only be compared, as Joe
Blunt expressed it, "to the last dyin' screech o' a bustin' steam
biler!" We cannot say that the effect was startling, for these
backwoodsmen had been born and bred in the midst of alarms, and were so
used to them that a "bustin' steam biler" itself, unless it had blown
them fairly off their legs, would not have startled them. But the
effect, such as it was, was sufficient to disconcert the aim of Jim
Scraggs, who fired at the same instant, and missed