Some one said to
the man whose shot, so far, was the winning one:
"Git his nerve; else he'll beat you!"'
There are no restrictive rules on the comments or actions of contestants
or spectators--there is usually a steady flow of raillery toward the
one at the shooting-post. To get Hatfield's nerve, the man ran forward
waving his hat, offering his services to get a fly off Hatfield's gun.
The rifle-barrel continued slowly to rise. There was no recognition of
the incident, no movement seen in the tall figure. Then his opponent
talked and sang; and as this produced no noticeable effect, he danced,
and stooping, began "to cut the pigeonwing" directly under the
rifle-barrel.
At this a soundless chuckle swept over Hatfield's shoulders. With a face
motionless he drew backward his gun and turning quietly, spat out a quid
of tobacco as if it were all that interfered with his aim. He again
slowly raised his rifle and fired, despite continued efforts to
disconcert him.
He walked leisurely back to the crowd, rested his gun against a tree and
took his seat on the ground. His only comment was:
"I think I pestered him."
The judges found that Hatfield had laid "the seam of the ball on
center," and won.
In these contests a mountain marksman will shoot eight or ten times and
often so closely will each shot fall to the knife-blade cross that the
hole cut by all of them in the white paper-target would be no larger
than a man's thumb-nail.
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