Clayton repeated his question.
"Thar used to be prime huntin' in these parts when my dad cleared
off this spot more'n fifty year ago, but the varmints hev mostly
been killed out. But Easter kin tell you better'n I kin, for she does
all our huntin', 'n' she kin outshoot 'mos' any man in the
mountains."
Yes; I saw her shoot at the match the other day down at the
mines."
Did ye? "-a smile of pleasure broke over the old woman's face-"
whar she beat Sherd Raines? Sherd wanted to mortify her, but she
mortified him, I reckon."
The girl did not join in her mother's laugh, though the corners of
her mouth twitched faintly.
I like shooting, myself," said Clayton. "I would go into a match,
but I'm afraid I wouldn't have much chance."
"I reckon not, with that short thing? " said the old woman, pointing
at his repeating-rifle. "Would ye shoot with that?"
Oh, yes," answered Clayton, smiling; "it shoots very well."
"How fer?"
"Oh, a long way."
A huge shadow swept over the house, thrown by a buzzard sailing
with magnificent ease high above them. Thinking that he might
disturb its flight, Clayton rose and cocked his rifle.
"Ye're not going to shoot at that?" said the old woman, grinning.
The girl had looked toward him at last, with a smile of faint
dension.
Clayton took aim quickly and fired.
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