“No, I’ll be dod blamed if I do,” said Billy; “but I’ll bet you two to one that you ha’nt hit the plank.” “Ah, Billy,” said I, “I was joking about betting, for I never bet, nor would I have you bet; indeed, I do not feel exactly right in shooting for beef, for it is a species of gaming, at last; but I’ll say this much, if that cross has not been knocked out, I’ll never shoot for beef again as long as I live.” “By dod,” said Mealy Whitecotton, “you’ll lose no great things at that.” “Well,” said I, “I reckon I know a little about wabbling. Is it possible, Billy, a man who shoots as well as you do, never practised shooting with the double wabble? It’s the greatest take in, in the world, when you learn to drive the cross with it. Another sort for getting bets upon, to the drop sight and single wabble; and the soap-stick’s the very yarn for it.” “Tell you what, stranger,” said one; “you’re too hard for us all, here. We never _hearn_ o’ that sort o’ shoot’n in these parts.” “Well,” returned I, “you’ve seen it now, and I’m the boy that can do it.” The judges were now approaching with the target, and a singular combination of circumstances had kept all my party in utter ignorance of the result of my shot. Those about the target had been prepared for a great shot from me; their expectations had received assurance from the courtesy which had been extended to me; and nothing had happened to disappoint them, but the single caution against the “dry gripes,” which was as likely to have been given in irony as in earnest; for my agonies under the weight of the soap-stick were either imperceptible to them, at the distance of sixty yards, or being visible, were taken as the flourishes of an expert, who wished to “astonish the natives.” The other party did not think the direction of my ball worth the trouble of a question; or if they did, my airs and harangues had put the thought to flight before it was delivered. Consequently, they were all transfixed with astonishment, when the judges presented the target to them, and gravely observed: “It’s only second best, after all the fuss.” “Second best!” exclaimed I, with uncontrollable transports. The whole of my party rushed to the target, to have the evidence of their senses, before they would believe the report; but most marvellous fortune decreed that it should be true. Their incredulity and astonishment were most fortunate for me, for they blinded my hearers to the real feelings with which the exclamation was uttered, and allowed me sufficient time to prepare myself for making the best use of what I had said before, with a very different object. “Second best!” reiterated I, with an air of despondency, as the company turned from the target to me; “second best, only! Here, Billy, my son, take the old soap-stick; she’s a good piece, but I’m getting too old and dim-sighted to shoot a rifle; especially with the drop sight and double wabbles.”