out here," said he, with a
smile of incredulity. "I never heard of but one that did, and he was a
little _swinge_ cat. He was born a shooting, and killed squirrels before
he was weaned."

"Nor did _I_ ever hear of but one," replied I, "and that one was
myself."

"And where did you win beef so young, stranger?"

"At Berry Adams's."

"Why, stop, stranger, let me look at you good! Is your name _Lyman_
Hall?"

"The very same," said I.

"Well, dang my buttons, if you ain't the very boy my daddy used to tell
me about. I was too young to recollect you myself; but I've heard daddy
talk about you many a time. I believe mammy's got a neck-handkerchief
now that daddy won on your shooting at Collen Reid's store, when you
were hardly knee high. Come along, Lyman, and I'll go my death upon you
at the shooting-match, with the old Soap-stick at your shoulder."

"Ah, Billy," said I, "the old Soap-stick will do much better at your own
shoulder. It was my mother's notion that sent me to the shooting-match
at Berry Adams's; and, to tell the honest truth, it was altogether a
chance shot that made me win beef; but that wasn't generally known; and
most everybody believed that I was carried there on account of my skill
in shooting; and my fame was spread far and wide, I well remember. I
remember, too, perfectly well, your father's bet on me at the store.
_He_ was at the shooting-match, and nothing could make him believe but
that I was a great shot with a rifle as well as a shot-gun. Bet he would
on me, in spite of all I could say, though I assured him that I had
never shot a rifle in my life. It so happened, too, that there were but
two bullets, or, rather, a bullet and a half; and so confident was your
father in my skill, that he made me shoot the half bullet; and, strange
to tell, by another chance shot, I like to have drove the cross and won
his bet."

"Now I know you're the very chap, for I heard daddy tell that very thing
about the half bullet. Don't say anything about it, Lyman, and darn my
old shoes, if I don't tare the lint off the boys with you at the
shooting-match. They'll never 'spect such a looking man as you are of
knowing anything about a rifle. I'll risk your _chance_ shots."

I soon discovered that the father had eaten sour grapes, and the son's
teeth were on edge; for Billy was just as incorrigibly obstinate in his
belief of my dexterity with a rifle as his father had been before him.

We soon reached the place a