“If you will go with me to the shoot
ing match, and see me knock out the
bull’s eye with her a few times, you’ll
agree that old soap-stick’s worth
something when Billy Curlew puts
his shoulder to her.”
This short sentence was replete
with information to me. It taught me
that my companion was Billy Curlew;
that he was going to a shooting
match; that he called his rifle the
soap-stick, and that he was very con
fident of winning beef with her; cr
which is nearly but not quite the same
thing, driving the cross with her.
“Well,” said I, “if the shooting
match is not too far out of my way,
I’ll go to it with pleasure.”
“Unless your way lies through the
woods from here,” said Billy, “it’ll not
be much out of your way; for it’s only
a mile ahead of us, and there Is no
other road for you to take until you
get there, and as that thing you are
riding in an’t well suited to traveling
among brushy knobs, I reckon you
won’t use much by going by. I reckon
ynn hardly aver was at a shooting
match, stranger, from the cut of your
coat?”
“Oh, yes,” returned I, “many a time.
