; just couldn't help it," he apologized.

His arrival galvanized the crowd into activity. From the delivery wagon
they unloaded boxes of shells, two camp stools and a number of barrels.
The driver then hitched his horses to the fence, and returned to act as
trap-puller.

One of the barrels was rolled out to the trap, opened, and its contents
carefully spilled on the ground. It contained a quantity of sawdust
and brown glass balls. These were about the size of a base-ball, had an
opening at the top, and were filled with feathers. John, the driver of
the delivery wagon, climbed down into a pit below the trap. He set the
spring of the trap and placed a glass ball in its receptacle at the end
of one of the two projecting arms. A long cord ran from the trap back to
the shooting stand.

Mr. Stafford opened a camp stool, sat down, and produced a long blank
book. In this he inscribed the men's names. Each gave him two dollars
and a half as an entrance fee. A referee and scorer were appointed from
among the half-dozen non-shooting spectators.

"Newmark to shoot; Heinzman on deck!" called the scorer in a
business-like voice.

The trapper ducked into his hole. Mr. Newmark thrust five loaded shells
into his side pocket, picked his gun from the rack and stepped forward
to the mark. Then he loaded one barrel of the gun and stood at ready.
In those days nobody thought of standing gun to shoulder, as is the
present custom. The rule was, "stock below elbow."

"Ready," said he in his dry incisive voice.

"Ready," repeated the trap puller at his elbow.

"Pull!" commanded Mr. Newmark abruptly.

Immediately the trap began to revolve rapidly; after a moment or so it
sprung, and the glass ball, projected violently upward, sailed away
through the air. The mechanism of the trap was such that no one could
tell precisely how long it would revolve before springing; nor in what
direction it would throw the target. Nevertheless the mark offered would
now, in comparison with our saucer-shaped target, be considered easy.
Mr. Newmark brought his gun to his shoulder and discharged it apparently
with one motion, before the ball had more than begun its flight. A roar
of the noisy black powder shook the air. The glass sphere seemed
actually to puff out in fine smoke. Only the feathers it had contained
floated down wind.

"Dead!" announced the referee in a brisk business-like voice.

Mr. Newmark broke his gun and flipped the empty yellow shell