The judges, I knew, were becoming impatient, and, withal, my situation was growing more embarrassing every second; so I e’en resolved to try the soap-stick, without farther parley. I stept out, and the most intense interest was excited all around me, and it flashed like electricity round the target, as I judged from the anxious gaze of all in that direction. Policy dictated that I should fire with a falling rifle, and I adopted this mode, determining to fire as soon as the sights came on a line with the diamond, _bead_ or _no bead_. Accordingly, I commenced lowering old soap-stick; but, in spite of all my muscular powers, she was strictly obedient to the laws of gravitation, and came down with an uniformly accelerated velocity. Before I could arrest her downward flight, she had not only passed the target, but was making rapid encroachments on my own toes. “Why, he’s the weakest man in the arms I ever seed,” said one, in a half whisper. “It’s only his fun,” said Billy; “I know him.” “It may be fun,” said the other, “but it looks mightily like yearnest to a man up a tree.” I now, of course, determined to reverse the mode of firing, and put forth all my physical energies to raise soap-stick to the mark. The effort silenced Billy, and gave tongue to his companions. I had just strength enough to master soap-stick’s obstinate proclivity, and consequently my nerves began to exhibit palpable signs of distress with her first imperceptible movement upward. A trembling commenced in my arms, increased and extended rapidly to my body and lower extremities, so that, by the time I brought soap-stick up to the mark, I was shaking from head to foot, exactly like a man under the continued action of a strong galvanic battery. In the meantime, my friends gave vent to their feelings freely. “I swear, point blank,” said one, “that man can’t shoot.” “He used to shoot well,” said another; “but can’t now, nor never could.” “You better git away from ’bout that mark,” bawled a third; “for I’ll be d——d if Broadcloth don’t give some of you the dry gripes, if you stand too close there.” “The stranger’s got the _Peedoddles_,” said a fourth, with humorous gravity. “If he had bullets enough in his gun, he’d shoot a ring round the bull’s-eye, big as a spinning-well,” said a fifth. As soon as I found that soap-stick was high enough (for I made no further use of the sights, than to ascertain this fact), I pulled the trigger, and off she went. I have always found the most creditable way of relieving myself of derision, was to heighten it myself as much as possible. It is a good plan in all circles, but by far the best which can be adopted among the plain, rough farmers of the country. Accordingly, I brought old soap-stick to an order with an air of triumph, tipped Billy the wink, and observed: “Now Billy’s your time to make your fortune. Bet ’em two to one that I’ve knocked out the cross.”