Double-barrel guns with their hammers which fall in the fiftieth of a second, driven by a strong spring directly the finger touches the trigger, translate the will into instant action. The gunner snatches the second when his gun is absolutely straight, and the shot flies to its destination before the barrel can deviate the thirty-second part of an inch. When Bevis’s finger first pressed the trigger of the matchlock he had the barrel of his gun accurately pointed. But while he pulled the match down to the pan an appreciable moment of time intervened; and his mind too--so swift is its operation--left the fish, his mark and object, and became expectant of the explosion. The match touched the priming. Puff! So infinitely rapid is the mind, so far does it outstrip gunpowder, that the flash from the pan and its tiny smoke seemed to Bevis to occur quite a little time before the great discharge, and in that little time his mind left the barrel, and came to look at the tiny puff of smoke. Bang! the ball rushed forth, but not now in the course it would have taken had a hair-trigger and a spring instantly translated his original will into action. In these momentary divisions of time which had elapsed since he settled his aim, the long barrel, resting on the staff and moving easily on its pivot, had imperceptibly drooped a trifle at the breech and risen as much at the muzzle. The ball flew high, hit the water six inches beyond the fish, and fired at so low an angle ricochetted, and went skipping along the surface, cutting out pieces of weed till the friction dragged it under, and it sank. The fish swished his tail like a scull at the stern of a boat or the screw of a steamer, but swift as was his spring forward, he would not have escaped had not the ball gone high. He left an undulation on the surface as he dived unhurt. Bevis stamped his foot to think he had missed again. “It was the water,” said Mark. “The bullet went duck and drake; I saw it.” He was too just to recall the fact of his having hit the teak-tree, the tree was so much larger than the fish. As he did not recall his success at the tree, Bevis’s irritation went no farther. “We must have a top-sight,” he said. “We won’t use bullets again till we have a sight.” “No, we won’t. But I’m sure I had the gun straight.” “So we had the rifle straight, but it did not hit.” “No, no more did it. There’s something peculiar in bullets--we will find out. I wanted that jack for supper.” As they had not brought the powder-horn with them, they walked back to the hut. “It’s not the gun’s fault, I’m sure,” said Mark. “It shoots beautiful; it’s my turn next.” “Yes; you shall shoot. O! no, it’s not the gun. They can shoot sparrows in India with a single ball,” said Bevis; “and matchlocks kill tigers better than rifles. Matchlocks are splendid things.”