How many things went through his mind while he squinted down the
gleaming barrel! He thought of the long labor on the farm and the mortgage
which still ate the life of his produce every year; he thought of the
narrow bowed shoulders of his wife; he thought of the meager faces of his
children; and he thought first and last of ten thousand dollars reward! No
wonder the hand which supported the barrels was steady as an iron prop. He
was shooting for his life and the happiness of five souls!
He would save his fire till he literally saw the white of the enemy's eyes:
until the outlaw reached the fence, No horse on the mountain-desert could
top that highest strand of wire as he very well knew; and in his youth,
back in Kentucky, he had ridden hunters. That fence came exactly to the top
of his head, and the top of his head was six feet and two inches from the
ground. To make assurance doubly sure he dropped upon one knee and made
that shotgun an unstirring part and portion of himself.
Nobly, nobly the black came on, his ears pricking as he judged the great
task and his head carried a little high and back as any good jumper knows
his head must be carried.
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