Генри Райдер Хаггард - Marie - An Episode in the Life of the Late Allan Quatermain

“You will have the worst of it, Allan,” said Retief. “It should have been shot and shot about.”

“Perhaps,” I answered, “but that can’t be helped now.”

Then I rose from my stool, the rifle in my hand. I had not long to wait, for presently over came a wedge of geese nearly a hundred yards up. I aimed at the first fellow, holding about eight yards ahead of him to allow for his pace, and pressed. Next second I heard the clap of the bullet, but alas! it had only struck the outstretched beak, of which a small portion fell to the ground. The bird itself, after wavering a second, resumed its place as leader of the squad and passed away apparently unharmed.

“Baas, baas,” whispered Hans as he seized the rifle and began to re-load, “you were too far in front. These big water-birds do not travel as fast as the rock pigeons.”

I nodded, wishing to save my breath. Then, quivering with excitement, for if I missed the next shot the match appeared to be lost, presently I took the rifle from his hand.

Scarcely had I done so when a single goose came over quite as high as the others and travelling “as though the black devil had kicked it,” as Retief said. This time I allowed the same space to compensate for the object’s increased speed and pressed.

Down it came like a stone, falling but a little way behind me with its head knocked off.

“Baas, baas,” whispered Hans, “still too far in front. Why aim at the eye when you have the whole body?”

Again I nodded, and at the same time heaved a sigh of relief. At least the match was still alive. Soon a large flight came over, mixed up with mallard and widgeon. I took the right-hand angle bird, so that it could not be supposed I had “browned the lot,” as here in England they say of one who fires at a covey and not at a particular partridge. Down he came, shot straight through the breast. Then I knew that I had got my nerve, and felt no more fear.

To cut a long story short, although two of them were extremely difficult and high, one being, I should say, quite a hundred and twenty yards above me, and the other by no means easy, I killed the next three birds one after the other, and I verily believe could have killed a dozen more without a miss, for now I was shooting as I had never shot before.

“Say, nephew Allan,” asked Retief curiously in the pause between the fifth and sixth shots, “why do your geese fall so differently to Hernan’s?”

“Ask him! don’t talk to me,” I answered, and next instant brought down number five, the finest shot of the lot.

A sound of wonder and applause came from all the audience, and I saw Marie wave a white handkerchief.

“That’s the end,” said the referee.

“One minute before you stir,” I answered. “I want to shoot at something else that is not in the match, just to see if I can kill two birds with one bullet like the Heer Pereira.”

He granted my request with a nod, holding up his hand to prevent the audience from moving, and bidding Pereira, who tried to interrupt, to be silent.

Now, while the match was in progress I had noticed two falcons about the size of the British peregrine wheeling round and round high over the kloof, in which doubtless they bred, apparently quite undisturbed by the shooting. Or, perhaps, they had their eyes upon some of the fallen geese. I took the rifle and waited for a long while, till at last my opportunity came. I saw that the larger hen falcon was about to cross directly over the circle of its mate, there being perhaps a distance of ten yards between them. I aimed; I judged —for a second my mind was a kind of calculating machine—the different arcs and speeds of the birds must be allowed for, and the lowest was ninety yards away. Then, with something like a prayer upon my lips, I pressed while every eye stared upwards.

Down came the lower falcon; a pause of half a second, and down came the higher one also, falling dead upon its dead mate!

Now, even from those Boers, who did not love to see an Englishman excel, there broke a shout of acclamation. Never had they beheld such a shot as this; nor in truth had I.

“Mynheer Retief,” I said, “I gave you notice that I intended to try to kill both of them, did I not?”

“You did. Allemachte! you did! But tell me, Allan Quatermain, are your eye and hand quite human?”

“You must ask my father,” I answered with a shrug as I sat myself down upon my stool and mopped my brow.

The Boers came up with a rush, Marie flying ahead of them like a swallow, and their stout womenfolk waddling behind, and formed a circle round us, all talking at once. I did not listen to their conversation, till I heard Pereira, who was engaged in some eye-play with Marie, say in a loud voice:

“Yes, it was pretty, very pretty, but all the same, Uncle Retief, I claim the match, as I shot six geese against five.”

“Hans,” I said, “bring my geese,” and they were brought, each with a neat hole through it, and laid down near those that Pereira had shot. “Now,” I said to Retief, “examine the wounds in these birds, and then that on the second bird which the Heer Pereira killed when he brought down two at once. I think it will be found that his bullet must have splintered.”

Retief went and studied all the birds, taking them up one by one. Then he threw down the last with a curse and cried in a great voice:

“Mynheer Pereira, why do you bring shame on us before these two Englishmen? I say that you have been using loopers, or else bullets that were sawn in quarters and glued or tied with thread. Look, look!” and he pointed to the wounds, of which in one case there were as many as three on a single bird.

“Why not?” answered Pereira coolly. “The bargain was that we were to use bullets, but it was never said that they should not be cut. Doubtless the Heer Allan’s were treated in the same way.”

“No,” I answered, “when I said that I would shoot with a bullet I meant a whole bullet, not one that had been sawn in pieces and fixed together again, so that after it left the muzzle it might spread out like shot. But I do not wish to talk about the matter. It is in the hands of the Heer Pieter Retief, who will give judgment as it pleases him.”

Now, much excited argument ensued among the Boers, in the midst of which Marie managed to whisper to me unheard:

“Oh! I am glad, Allan, for whatever they may decide, you won, and the omen is good.”

“I don’t see what geese have to do with omens, sweetheart,” I answered —”that is, since the time of the ancient Romans. Anyhow, I should say that the omens are bad, for there is going to be a row presently.”

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