The turkey was hobbled to a stake at the same distance, and both
were to fire at its head, with the privilege of shooting at fifty yards
if no rest were taken.
Raines shot first without rest, and, as he missed, the girl followed
his example. The turkey dozed on in the sunlight, undisturbed by
either. The mountaineer was vexed. With his powerful face set
determinedly, he lay down flat on the ground, and, resting his rifle
over a small log, took an inordinately long and careful aim. The
rifle cracked, the turkey bobbed its head unhurt, and the marksman
sprang to his feet with an exclamation of surprise and chagrin. As
he loaded the gun and gravely handed it to the girl, the excitement
grew intense. The crowd pressed close. The stolid faces of the
mountaineer women, thrust from their bonnets, became almost
eager with interest. Raines, quiet and composed as he was, looked
anxious. All eyes followed every movement of the girl as she
coolly stretched her long, active figure on the ground, drew her
dress close about it, and, throwing her yellow hair over her face to
shade her eyes from the slanting sunlight, placed her cheek against
the stock of the gun. A long suspense followed. A hush almost of
solemnity fell upon the crowd.
"Why don't the gal shoot?" asked a voice, impatiently.
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