important omission; for this nail-head is a hundred yards from the
marksmen, and could not be seen by them at that distance, no matter what
its color might be.
How far can the best eyes see a common house-fly? A hundred yards? It
is quite impossible. Very well; eyes that cannot see a house-fly that is
a hundred yards away cannot see an ordinary nailhead at that distance,
for the size of the two objects is the same. It takes a keen eye to see
a fly or a nailhead at fifty yards–one hundred and fifty feet. Can the
reader do it?
The nail was lightly driven, its head painted, and game called. Then the
Cooper miracles began. The bullet of the first marksman chipped an edge
off the nail-head; the next man’s bullet drove the nail a little way into
the target–and removed all the paint. Haven’t the miracles gone far
enough now? Not to suit Cooper; for the purpose of this whole scheme is
to show off his prodigy, Deerslayer Hawkeye–Long-Rifle-Leather-Stocking-
Pathfinder-Bumppo before the ladies.
“‘Be all ready to clench it, boys I’ cried out Pathfinder,
stepping into his friend’s tracks the instant they were vacant.
‘Never mind a new nail; I can see that, though the paint is
gone, and what I can see I can hit at a hundred yards, though
it were only a mosquito’s eye. Be ready to clench!’
“The rifle cracked, the bullet sped its way, and the head of the nail was
buried in the wood, covered by the piece of flattened lead.”
There, you see, is a man who could hunt flies with a rifle, and command a
ducal salary in a Wild West show to-day if we had him back with us.
The recorded feat is certainly surprising just as it stands; but it is
not surprising enough for Cooper. Cooper adds a touch. He has made
Pathfinder do this miracle with another man’s rifle; and not only that,
but Pathfinder did not have even the advantage of loading it himself. He
had everything against him, and yet he made that impossible shot; and not
only made it, but did it with absolute confidence, saying, “Be ready to
clench.” Now a person like that would have undertaken that same feat
with a brickbat, and with Cooper to help he would have achieved it, too.
Pathfinder showed off handsomely that day before the ladies. His very
first feat was a thing which no Wild West show can touch. He was
standing with the group of marksmen, observing–a hundred yards from the
target, mind; one jasper raised his rifle and drove the centre of the
bull’s-eye. Then the Quartermaster fired. The target exhibited no
result this time. There was a laugh. “It’s a dead miss,” said Major
Lundie. Pathfinder waited an impressive moment or two; then said, in
that calm, indifferent, know-it-all way of his, “No, Major, he has
covered jasper’s bullet, as will be seen if any one will take the trouble
to examine the target.”
Wasn’t it remarkable! How could he see that little pellet fly through
the air and enter that distant bullet-hole? Yet that is what he did; for
nothing is impossible to a Cooper person. Did any of those people have
any deep-seated doubts about this thing? No; for that would imply
sanity, and these were all Cooper people.
“The respect for Pathfinder’s skill and for his ‘quickness and
accuracy of sight'” (the italics [”] are mine) “was so
profound and general, that the instant he made this declaration
the spectators began to distrust their own opinions, and a
dozen rushed to the target in order to ascertain the fact.
There, sure enough, it was found that the Quartermaster’s
bullet had gone through the hole made by Jasper’s, and that,
too, so accurately as to require a minute examination to be
certain of the circumstance, which, however, was soon clearly
established by discovering one bullet over the other in the
stump against which the target was placed.”
They made a “minute” examination; but never mind, how could they know
that there were two bullets in that hole without digging the latest one
out? for neither probe nor eyesight could prove the presence of any more