University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.

The ancient amusement of shooting the Christmas
turkey, is one of the few sports that the settlers
of a new country seldom or never neglect to
observe. It was connected with the daily practices
of a people, who often laid aside the axe or
the sithe, to seize the rifle, as the deer glided
through the forests they were felling, or the bear
entered their rough meadows, to scent the air of a
clearing, and to scan, with a look of sagacity, the
progress of the invader.

On the present occasion, the usual amusement
of the day had been a little hastened, in order to
allow a fair opportunity to Mr. Grant, whose exhibition
was not less a treat to the young sportsmen,
than the one which engaged their present
attention. The owner of the birds was a free
black, who had been preparing for the occasion a
collection of game, that was admirably qualified
to inflame the appetite of an epicure, and was
well adapted to the means and skill of the different
competitors, who were of all ages. He had
offered to the younger and more humble marksmen

divers birds of an inferior quality, and some
shooting had already taken place, much to the pecuniary
advantage of the sable owner of the game.
The order of the sports was extremely simple, and
well understood. The bird was fastened by a
string of tow, to the base of the stump of a large
pine, the side of which, towards the point where
the marksmen were placed, had been flattened
with an axe, in order that it might serve the purpose
of a target, by which the merit of each individual
might be ascertained. The distance between
the stump and this point was one hundred
measured yards; a foot more or a foot less being
thought an invasion of the right of one of the parties.
The negro affixed his own price to every
bird, and the terms of the chance; but when these
were once established, he was obliged, by the
strict principles of public justice that prevailed
in the country, to admit any adventurer who
might offer.

The throng consisted of some twenty or thirty
young men, most of whom had rifles, and a collection
of all the boys in the village. The little
urchins, clad in coarse but warm garments, stood
gathered around the more distinguished marksmen,
with their hands stuck under their waistbands,
listening eagerly to the boastful stories of
skill that had been exhibited on former occasions,
and were already emulating in their hearts these
wonderful deeds in gunnery.

The chief speaker was the man who had been
mentioned by Natty, as Billy Kirby. This fellow,
whose occupation, when he did labour, was
that of clearing lands, or chopping jobs, was of
great stature, and carried, in his very air, the index
of his character. He was a noisy, boisterous,
reckless lad, whose good-natured eye contradicted
the bluntness and bullying tenor of his speech.

For weeks he would lounge around the taverns of
the country, in a state of perfect idleness, or doing
small jobs for his liquor and his meals, and cavilling
with applicants about the prices of his labour;
frequently preferring idleness to an abatement of
a tittle of his independence, or a cent in his wages.
But when these embarrassing points were
once satisfactorily arranged, he would shoulder
his axe and his rifle, slip his arms through the
straps of his pack, and enter the woods with the
tread of a Hercules. His first object was to
learn his limits, round which he would pace, occasionally
freshening, with a blow of his axe, the
marks on the boundary trees; and then he would
proceed, with an air of great deliberation, to the
centre of his premises, and throwing aside his superfluous
garments, he would measure, with a
knowing eye, one or two of the nearest trees, that
were towering apparently into the very clouds, as
he gazed upward. Commonly selecting one of
the most noble, for the first trial of his power, he
would approach it with a listless air, whistling a
low tune; and wielding his axe, with a certain
flourish not unlike the salutes of a fencing-master,
he would strike a light blow into the bark, and
measure his distance. The pause that followed
was ominous of the fall of the forest, that had
flourished there for centuries. The heavy and
brisk blows that he struck, were soon succeeded
by the thundering report of the tree, as it came,
first cracking and threatening, with the separation
of its own last ligaments; then thrashing and
tearing with its branches the tops of its surrounding
brethren, and finally meeting the ground, with
a shock but little inferior to an earthquake. From
that moment, the sounds of the axe would be
ceaseless, while the falling of the trees was like a
distant cannonading; and the daylight broke into
the depths of the woods, with almost the suddenness
of a winter morning.

For days, weeks, nay months, Billy Kirby
would toil, with an ardour that evinced his native
spirit, and with an effect that seemed magical;
until, his chopping being ended, his stentorian
lungs could be heard, emitting sounds, as he called
to his patient oxen, the assistants in his labour,
which rung through the hills like the cries of an
alarm. He had been often heard, on a mild summer's
evening, a long mile across the vale of Templeton;
when the echoes from the mountains
would take up his cries, until they died away in
feeble sounds, from the distant rocks that overhung
the lake. His piles, or, to use the language
of the country, his logging, ended with a despatch
that could only accompany his dexterity and Herculean
strength, the jobber would collect together
his implements of labour, light the heaps of timber,
and march away, under the blaze of the prostrate
forest, like the conqueror of some city, who,
having first prevailed over his adversary, places
the final torch of destruction, as the finishing blow
to his conquest. For a long time Billy Kirby
would then be seen, sauntering around the taverns,
the rider of scrub-races, the bully of cock-fights,
and, not unfrequently, the hero of such sports as
the one in hand.

Between him and the Leather-stocking there
had long existed a jealous rivalry, on the point of
their respective skill in shooting. Notwithstanding
the long practice of Natty, it was commonly
supposed that the steady nerves and quick eye of
the wood-chopper, rendered him his equal. Their
competition had, however, been confined, hitherto,
to boastings, and comparisons made from their
successes in their various hunting excursions; but
this was the first time that they had ever come in

upon collision. A good deal of higgling, about
the price of a shot at the choicest bird, had taken
place between Billy Kirby and its owner, before
Natty and his companions rejoined the sportsmen.
It had, however, been settled at one shilling
a shot, which was the highest sum ever exacted,
the black taking care to protect himself
from losses, as much as possible, by the conditions
of the sport. The turkey was already fastened at
the “mark,” but its body was entirely hid by
the surrounding snow, nothing being visible but
its red, swelling head, and long, proud neck. If
the bird was injured by any bullet that struck below
the snow, it was still to continue the property
of its present owner; but if a feather was touched
in the visible part, the animal became the prize of
the successful adventurer.

These terms were loudly proclaimed from the
mouth of the negro, who was seated in the snow,
in a somewhat hazardous vicinity to his favourite
bird, as Elizabeth, and her cousin, the newly appointed
executive chief of the county, approached
the noisy sportsmen. The sounds of mirth and
contention sensibly lowered at this unexpected visit,
but after a moment's pause, the curious interest
exhibited in the face of the young lady, together
with her smiling air, restored the freedom
of the morning; though it was somewhat chastened,
both in language and vehemence, by the presence
of such a spectator to their proceedings.

“Stand out of the way there, boys!” cried the
wood-chopper, who was placing himself at the
shooting-point—“stand out of the way, you little
rascals, or I will shoot through you. Now, Brom,
you may say good-by to that turkey.”

“Stop!” cried the young hunter; “I am a
candidate for a chance too. Here is my shilling,
Brom; I wish a shot too.”

“You may wish it in welcome,” cried Kirby;
“but if I ruffle the gobbler's feathers, how are
you to get it? is money so plenty in your deer-skin
pocket, that you pay it for a chance that you
may never have?”

“How know you, sir, how plenty money is in
my pocket?” said the youth, fiercely. “Here is
my shilling, Brom, and I claim a right to shoot.”

“Don't be crabbed, my boy,” said the other,
who was very coolly fixing his flint. “They say
you have a hole in your left shoulder, yourself;
so I think Brom may give you a fire for half-price.
It will take a keen one to hit that bird, I can tell
you, my lad, even if I give you a chance, which
is a thing I have no mind to do.”

“Don't be boasting, Billy Kirby,” said Natty,
throwing the breech of his rifle into the snow, and
leaning on its barrel; you'll get but one shot at
the creater, for if the lad misses his aim, which
wouldn't be a wonder if he did, with his arm so
stiff and sore, you'll find a good piece and an old
eye comin a'ter you. Maybe its true, that I can't
shoot as I used to could, but a hundred yards is
but a short distance for a long rifle.”

“What, old Leather-stocking, are you out this
morning?” cried his reckless opponent. “Well,
fair play's a jewel. But I've the lead of you, old
fellow; and so here goes, for a dry throat or a
good dinner.”

The countenance of the negro evinced not only
all the interest which his pecuniary adventure
might occasion, but also the keen excitement that
the sport produced in the others, though with a
very different wish as to the result. While the
wood-chopper was slowly and steadily raising his
rifle, he exclaimed—

“Fair play, Billy Kirby—stand back—make
'em stand back, boys—gib a nigger fair play—

poss-up, gobbler; shake a head, fool; don't a see
'em pokin gun at 'em?”

These cries, which were intended as much to
distract the attention of the marksman, as for any
thing else, where, however, fruitless. The nerves
of the wood-chopper were not so easily shaken,
and he took his aim with the utmost deliberation.
The dead stillness of expectation prevailed for a
moment, and he fired. The head of the turkey
was seen to dash on one side, and its wings were
spread in momentary fluttering; but it settled itself
down, calmly, into its bed of snow, and glanced
its eyes uneasily around. For a time long
enough to draw a deep breath, not a sound was
heard. The silence was then broken, by the
noise of the negro, who laughed, and shook his
body, with all kinds of antics, rolling over in the
snow with the excess of his delight.

“Well done a gobbler,” he cried, jumping up,
and affecting to embrace his bird; “I tell 'em to
poss-up, and you see 'em dodge. Gib anoder
shillin, Billy, and hab anoder shot.”

“No—the shot is mine,” said the young hunter;
“you have my money already. Leave the mark,
and let me try my luck.”

“Ah! it's but money thrown away, lad,” said
Leather-stocking. “A turkey's head and neck
is but a small mark for a new hand and a lame
shoulder. You'd best let me take the fire, and
maybe we can make some sittlement with the lady
about the bird.”

“The chance is mine,” said the young hunter.
“Clear the ground, that I may take it.”

The discussions and disputes concerning the
last shot were now abating, it having been determined,
that if the turkey's head had been any
where but just where it was at the moment, the
bird must certainly have been killed. There was

not much excitement produced by the preparations
of the youth, who proceeded in a hurried
manner to take his aim, and was in the act
of pulling the trigger, when he was stopped by
Natty.

“Your hand shakes, lad,” he said, “and you
seem over eager. Bullet wownds are apt to
weaken the flesh, and, to my judgment, you'll not
shoot so well as in common. If you will fire, you
should shoot quick, before there is time to shake
off the aim.”

“Fair play,” again shouted the negro; “fair
play—gib a nigger fair play. What right a Nat-Bumppo
tell a young man? Let 'em shoot—
clear a ground.”

The youth fired with great rapidity; but no
motion was made by the turkey; and when the
examiners for the ball returned from the “mark,”
they declared that he had missed the stump.

Elizabeth observed the change in his countenance,
and could not help feeling surprise, that
one so evidently superior to his companions,
should feel a trifling loss so sensibly. But her
own champion was now preparing to enter the
lists.

The mirth of Brom, which had been again excited,
though in a much smaller degree than before,
by the failure of the second adventurer, vanished,
the instant that Natty took his stand. His
skin became mottled with large brown spots, that
sullied the lustre of his native ebony most fearfully,
while his enormous lips gradually compressed
around the two rows of ivory, that had hitherto
been shining in his visage, like pearls set in jet.
His nostrils, at all times the most conspicuous
features of his face, dilated, until they covered
the greater part of the diameter of his countenance;
while his brown and bony hands unconsciously

grasped the snow-crust near him, the excitement
of the moment completely overcoming
his native dread of cold.

While these indications of apprehension were
exhibited in the sable owner of the turkey, the
man who gave rise to this extraordinary emotion
was as calm and collected, as if there was not to
be a single spectator of his skill.

“I was down in the Dutch settlements on the
Scoharie,” said Natty, carefully removing the
leather guard from the lock of his rifle, “jist before
the breaking out of the last war, and there
was a shooting-match amongst the boys; so I took
a hand in it myself. I think I opened a good
many Dutch eyes that very day, for I won the
powder-horn, three bars of lead, and a pound of
as good powder as ever flashed in the pan of a
gun. Lord! how they did swear in Garman!
They did tell of one drunken Dutchman, who
said he'd have the life of me, before I got back to
the lake ag'in. But if he had put his rifle to his
shoulder, with evil intent, God would have punished
him for it; and even if the Lord didn't, and
he had missed his aim, I know one that would
have given him as good as he sent, and better too,
if good shooting could come into the 'count.”

By this time the old hunter was ready for his
business, and, throwing his right leg far behind
him, and stretching his left arm along the barrel
of his piece, he raised towards the bird. Every
eye glanced rapidly from the marksman to the
mark; but at the moment when each ear was expecting
the report of the rifle, they were disappointed
by the ticking sound of the flint only.

“A snap—a snap,” shouted the negro, springing
from his crouching posture, like a madman,
before his bird. “A snap as good as a fire—Natty

Bumppo gun he snap—Natty Bumppo miss a
turkey.”

“Natty Bumppo hit a nigger,” said the indignant
old hunter, “if you don't get out of the way,
Brom. It's contrary to the reason of the thing,
boy, that a snap should count for a fire, when one
is nothing more than a fire-stone striking a steel
pan, and the other is good lead, ay! and with a
good aim; so get out of my way, boy, and let
me show Billy Kirby how to shoot a Christmas
turkey.”

“Gib a nigger fair play!” cried the black, who
continued resolutely to maintain his post. “Ebbery
body know dat snap as good as fire. Leab
it to Massa Jone—leab it to lady.”

“Sartain,” said the wood-chopper; “it's the
law of the game in this part of the country, Leather-stocking.
If you fire ag'in, you must pay
up the other shilling. I b'lieve I'll try luck once
more myself; so, Brom, here's my money, and
I take the next fire.”

“It's likely you know the laws of the woods
better than I do, Billy Kirby!” returned Natty.
“You come in with the settlers, with an ox goad
in your hand, and I come in with moccasins on
my feet, and with a good rifle on my shoulder, so
long back as afore the old war; which is likely to
know the best? I say, no man need tell me that
snapping is as good as firing, when I pull the
trigger.”

“Leab it to Massa Jone,” said the alarmed
negro; “he know ebbery ting.”

This appeal to the knowledge of Richard was
too flattering to be unheeded. He therefore advanced
a little from the spot whither the delicacy
of Elizabeth had induced her to withdraw, and
gave the following opinion, with all the gravity
that the subject and his own rank demanded:—

“There seems to be a difference in opinion,”
he said, “on the subject of Nathaniel Bumppo's
right to shoot at Abraham Freeborn's turkey,
without the said Nathaniel paying one shilling for
the privilege.” This fact was too self-evident to
be denied, and after pausing a moment, that the
audience might digest his premises, Richard proceeded:—“It
seems proper that I should decide
this question, as I am bound to preserve the peace
of the county; and men with deadly weapons in
their hands, should not be heedlessly left to contention,
and their own malignant passions. It appears
that there was no agreement, either in writing
or in words, on the disputed point; therefore
we must reason from analogy, which is, as it
were, comparing one thing with another. Now,
in duels, where both parties shoot, it is generally
the rule that a snap is a fire; and if such is the
rule, where the party has a right to fire back
again, it seems to me unreasonable, to say that a
man may stand snapping at that turkey all day.
I therefore am of opinion, that Nathaniel Bumppo
has lost his chance, and must pay another shilling
before he renews his right.”

As this opinion came from such a high quarter,
and was delivered with so much effect, it silenced
all murmurs, for the whole of the spectators had
begun to take sides with great warmth, except
from the Leather-stocking himself.

“I think Miss Elizabeth's thoughts should be
taken,” said Natty. “I've known the squaws
give very good counsel, when the Indians have
been dumb-foundered in their notions. If she
says that I ought to lose, I agree to give it up.”

“Then I adjudge you to be a loser, for this
time,” said Miss Temple; “but pay your money,
and renew your chance; unless Brom will sell me

the bird for a dollar. I will give him the money,
and save the life of the poor victim”

This proposition was evidently but little relished
by any of the listeners, even the negro feeling
unwilling to lose the sport, though he lost his turkey.
In the mean while, as Billy Kirby was preparing
himself for another shot, Natty left the
goal, with an extremely dissatisfied manner, muttering
to himself, and speaking aloud—

“There hasn't been such a thing as a good flint
sold at the foot of the lake, since the time when
the Indian traders used to come into the country;
—and if a body should go into the flats along the
streams in the hills, to hunt for such a thing, it's
ten to one but they be all covered up with the
plough. Heigho! it seems to me, that just as the
game grows scarce, and a body wants the best of
ammunition, to get a livelihood, every thing that's
bad falls on him, like a judgment. But I'll change
the stone, for Billy Kirby hasn't the eye for such
a mark, I know.”

The wood-chopper seemed now entirely sensible
that his reputation in a great manner depended
on his care; nor did he neglect any means to
ensure his success. He drew up his rifle, and renewed
his aim, again and again, still appearing
reluctant to fire. No sound was heard from even
Brom, during these portentous movements, until
Kirby discharged his piece, with the same want
of success as before. Then, indeed, the shouts of
the negro rung through the bushes, and sounded
among the trees of the neighbouring forest, like
the outcries of a tribe of Indians. He laughed,
rolling his head, first on one side, then on the
other, until nature seemed exhausted with mirth.
He danced, until his legs were wearied with motion,
in the snow; and, in short, he exhibited all

that violence of joy that characterizes the mirth
of a thoughtless negro.

The wood-chopper had exerted all his art, and
felt a proportionate degree of disappointment at
his failure. He first examined the bird with the
utmost attention, and more than once suggested
that he had touched its feathers; but the voice of
the multitude was against him, for it felt disposed
to listen to the often repeated cries of the black,
to “gib a nigger fair play.”

Finding it impossible to make out a title to
the bird, Kirby turned fiercely to the black, and
said—

“Shut your oven, you crow! Where is the
man that can hit a turkey's head at a hundred
yards? I was a fool for trying. You needn't
make an uproar, like a falling pine tree, about it.
Show me the man who can do it.”

“Look this a-way, Billy Kirby,” said Leather-stocking,
“and let them clear the mark, and I'll
show you a man who's made better shots afore
now, and that when he's been hard pressed by the
savages and wild beasts.”

“Perhaps there is one whose rights come before
ours, Leather-stocking.” said Miss Temple;
“if so, we will waive our privilege.”

“If it be me that you have reference to, madam,”
said the young hunter, “I shell decline
another chance. My shoulder is yet weak, I find.”

Elizabeth regarded his proud, but forced manner,
and even thought that she could discern a
tinge on his cheek, that spoke the shame of conscious
poverty. She said no more, but suffered
her own champion to make a trial.

Although Natty Bumppo had certainly made
hundreds of more momentous shots, at his enemies
or his game, yet he never exerted himself
more to excel. He raised his piece three several

times; once to get his range; once to calculate
his distance; and once because the bird, alarmed
by the death like stillness that prevailed, turned
its head quickly, to examine its foes. But the
fourth time he fired. The smoke, the report, and
the momentary shock, prevented most of the spectators
from instantly knowing the result; but
Elizabeth, when she saw her champion drop the
end of his rifle in the snow, and open his mouth
in one of its silent laughs, and then proceed, very
coolly, to re-charge his piece, knew that he had
been successful. The boys rushed to the mark,
and lifted the turkey on high, lifeless, and with
nothing but the remnant of a head.

“Bring in the creater,” said Leather-stocking,
“and put it at the feet of the lady. I was her
deputy in the matter, and the bird is her property.”

“And a good deputy you have proved yourself,”
returned Elizabeth—“so good, cousin Richard,
that I would advise you to remember his
qualities.” She paused, and the gayety that
beamed on her face gave place to a more serious
earnestness. She even blushed a little, as she
turned to the young hunter, and, with the insinuating
charm of a woman's best manner, added—“But
it was only to see an exhibition of the
far-famed skill of Leather-stocking, that I tried
my fortunes. Will you, sir, accept the bird, as a
small peace-offering, for the hurt that prevented
your own success?”

The expression with which the youth received
this present was indescribable. He appeared to
yield to the exquisite blandishment of her air, in
opposition to a strong inward impulse to the contrary.
He bowed, and raised the victim silently
from her feet, but continued silent.

Elizabeth handed the black a piece of silver as

a remuneration for his loss, which had some effect
in again unbending his muscles, and then expressed
to her companion her readiness to return homeward.

“Wait a minute, cousin Bess,” cried Richard;
“there is an uncertainty about the rules of this
sport, that it is proper I should remove. If
you will appoint a committee, gentlemen, to wait
on me this morning, I will draw up, in writing, a
set of regulations—” He stopped, with some
indignation, to see who it was that so familiarly
laid his hand on the shoulder of the High Sheriff
of —.

“A merry Christmas to you, cousin Dickon,”
said Judge Temple, who had approached the party
unperceived: “I must have a vigilant eye to
my daughter, sir, if you are to be seized daily with
these gallant fits. I admire the taste, which would
introduce a lady to such scenes!”

“It is her own perversity, 'duke,” cried the disappointed
Sheriff, who felt the loss of the first salutation
as grievously as many a man would a
much greater misfortune; and I must say that
she comes honestly by it. I led her out to show
her the improvements, but away she scampered,
through the snow, at the first sound of the fire-arms,
the same as if she had been brought up in a
camp, instead of a first-rate boarding-school. I
do think, Judge Temple, that such dangerous
amusements should be suppressed by law; nay, I
doubt whether they are not already indictable at
common law.”

“Well, sir, as you are Sheriff of the county, it
becomes your duty to examine into the matter,”
returned the smiling Marmaduke. “I perceive
that Bess has executed her commission, and I
hope it met with a favourable reception.”

Richard glanced his eye at the packet, which

he held in his hand, and the slight anger produced
by his disappointment vanished instantly.

“Ah! 'duke, my dear cousin,” he said, “step
a little on one side; I have something I would say
to you.” Marmaduke complied, and the Sheriff
led him to a little distance in the bushes, and continued—“First,
'duke, let me thank you for your
friendly interest with the Council and the Governor,
without which, I am confident that the greatest
merit would avail but little. But we are sisters'
children—we are sisters' children; and you
may use me like one of your horses; ride me or
drive me, 'duke, I am wholly yours. But in my
humble opinion, this young companion of Leather-stocking
requires looking after. He has a
very dangerous propensity for turkey.”

“Leave him to my management, Dickon,” said
the Judge, gravely, “and I will cure his appetite
by indulgence. It is with him that I would speak.
Let us rejoin the sportsmen.”