Now, I can't boast of being a good marksman myself; my studies" (and here I looked big, for I doubted if he could even read, much less construe a chapter in the Greek Testament) "did not leave me much time.

A squirrel is too small an object for all but an experienced man, but a "_large_" mark like a quart bottle can easily be hit at a hundred yards--that is nothing." "I will take you a bet," said he, "of a doubloon, you do not do it again ?" "Thank you," I replied with great indifference: "I never bet, and besides, that gun has so injured my shoulder, that I could not, if I would." By that accidental shot, I obtained a great name as a marksman, and by prudence I retained it all the voyage.

This is precisely my case now, gentle reader.

I made an accidental hit with the Clockmaker: when he ceases to speak, I shall cease to write.

The little reputation I then acquired, I do not intend to jeopardize by trying too many experiments.
I know that it was chance--many people think it was skill.