change her min'
an' rid back in agin! Dem candles begin to sizzle an' spit up sparks,
an' shoot up balls of terror dat bust 'ginst de ceilin' an' come
down--kersplash! all over us! De niggers stood lak a passel of sheep fer
a minit--'twarn't as long as dat--den someun yell 'Witches!' An' dey
charge fer de doh, an' when de doh git choked up dey charge fer de
winder, an' when de winder git choked up--but I ain' got de heart to
recall dat turr'ble night!"

"Did it really happen, Colonel?" Brent cried.

"Every word of it, sir," the old gentleman chuckled. "The rascals burned
down my out building, and I believe the groom did not come back, at
all."

"Dat's de truff," Aunt Timmie declared. "An' poh Sapry run clar in de
crick! Dey foun' her standin' waist deep, yellin' an' fightin' off
lightnin'-bugs lak dey's gwine set her on fyah. An' it all come from
foolin' wid dese heah pop-cracks! I knows!" Then persuasively she
whispered to the little boy: "Come 'long, now, honey--let's me an' you
set down heah nice, an' see de ole folks cut up!" This time she
accomplished it.

When Bob introduced "the Sharpshooter of Sunlight Patch," another great
burst of good natured applause went up; although Brent and the Colonel
could not help exchanging glances. It seemed such an impertinence,
following upon his other performance with this same rifle; but he had
apparently given this no thought, and now stepped out, flushed and
determined. About his shoulders swung a bullet pouch and powder horn. He
loaded the piece, carefully cutting a patch for the ball; then from his
waistcoat pocket drew forth a small tin box of percussion caps, fitted
one of these, and was ready.

Assisted by Bob, who improvised all manner of moving targets, he made
hit after hit with a sureness provoking cries of admiration. Quickly
challenged, he clipped the tip of a feather from the wing of an
over-flying crow; and to show it were no accident he repeated this on
another speeding bird. A dime tossed into the air was whirled through
space, and a plum sent bounding over the ground was shattered. Brent and
the old gentleman exchanged another glance and slowly shook their heads,
for it seemed there could be no hope for Tusk before so deadly an aim.
The marvel was how he had been able to crawl away.

With this last, and most perfect shot, Bob declared he had fairly won
the world's championship, and presented him with a huge bouquet. The
mountaineer flushed with a strang