It was at dusk, and they were flying directly overhead from one cliff to the other.

He had in his hand a thirty-eight calibre Ballard rifle, and, as the gobblers winged their way heavily by, he brought both down with two successive bullets.

This was of course mainly a piece of mere luck; but it meant good shooting, too.

The Ballard was a very accurate, handy little weapon; it belonged to me, and was the first rifle I ever owned or used.

With it I had once killed a deer, the only specimen of large game I had then shot; and I presented the rifle to my brother when he went to Texas.