_its_ bad shooting.

Further comment upon it was checked by the arrival of a dozen or more
hunters on the scene of action. They were a sturdy set of bronzed,
bold, fearless men, and one felt, on looking at them, that they would
prove more than a match for several hundreds of Indians in open fight.
A few minutes after, the major himself came on the ground with the
prize rifle on his shoulder, and Fan and Crusoe at his heels--the
latter tumbling, scrambling, and yelping after its mother, fat and
clumsy, and happy as possible, having evidently quite forgotten that
it had been nearly roasted alive only a few weeks before.

Immediately all eyes were on the rifle, and its merits were discussed
with animation.

And well did it deserve discussion, for such a piece had never before
been seen on the western frontier. It was shorter in the barrel and
larger in the bore than the weapons chiefly in vogue at that time,
and, besides being of beautiful workmanship, was silver-mounted. But
the grand peculiarity about it, and that which afterwards rendered it
the mystery of mysteries to the savages, was that it had two sets of
locks--one percussion, the other flint--so that, when caps failed,
by taking off the one set of locks and affixing the others, it was
converted into a flint rifle. The major, however, took care never
to run short of caps, so that the flint locks were merely held as a
reserve in case of need.

"Now, lads," cried Major Hope, stepping up to the point whence they
were to shoot, "remember the terms. He who first drives the nail
obtains the rifle, Fan, and her pup, and accompanies me to the nearest
settlement. Each man shoots with his own gun, and draws lots for the
chance."

"Agreed," cried the men.

"Well, then, wipe your guns and draw lots. Henri will fix the nail.
Here it is."

The individual who stepped, or rather plunged forward to receive the
nail was a rare and remarkable specimen of mankind. Like his comrades,
he was half a farmer and half a hunter. Like them, too, he was clad in
deerskin, and was tall and strong--nay, more, he was gigantic. But,
unlike them, he was clumsy, awkward, loose-jointed, and a bad shot.
Nevertheless Henri was an immense favourite in the settlement, for
his good-humour knew no bounds. No one ever saw him frown. Even when
fighting with the savages, as he was sometimes compelled to do in
self-defence, he went at them with a sort of jovial rage that was
almost laughable. Inconsi