Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1903-02-28
A DEAD SHOT

j
along the ground as if to show great
humility, the favorite huntsman Of
Prince Horostienko entered the ar
Dor where his illustrious master was
wont to repose after eating.
Approach, son of dog, and
listenp
Yam Barsouck came nearer and
bent forward until his face touched
his masters boot.
care you always sure Of your
hand and your sight?"
''God help me, yes, excellency."
"Well, you are to wander away
from the castle, as is your habit.
You must pretend to have lost your
way. At nightfall enter the garden
secretly and, jumping the hedge,
conceal yourself in yonder clump Of
bushes, which is directly in front Of
the window of the blue saloon"
eyes, excellency."
"The saloon is sure to be lighted.
There you will see the princess and
Count Alexis Karagine. Watch
well. When you see me enter the
room, raise your gun and aim at the
count"
Drawn up in his rustic chair, his
face more wrinkled and distorted
than ever before, the old prince
spoke authoritatively. His gaze was
intently fixed upon his huntsman,
in whose features no other senti-
ment was discernible save that Of
servile obedience. He continued:
Calm at the count, but do not
shoot at once. Before you blow out
his brains / wish to make him IN
derstand that he is to die"
SY es, excellency.''
Wherefore, you will stand, your
finger on the trigger, until let fall
a handkerchief which | shall carry
in my hand. Then, Yam, shoot
and hit your mark. You under
stand p
eyes. ezcellency."
eco"
Yam was more than a mamie
was a brute. Whence he came no
one knew. From Lithuania per-
haps. Judging from his name-the
only words he could speak when
they found him, tiny babe, under
bush on the highroad that crossed
Prince Horostienko's estates. They
left him to grow up in the court
yard among the servants and
grooms. For his daily nourishment
he depended upon the charity of the
peasants and the solutions.
At sixteen he had made a bow,
with which he could bring down all
the apples and pears he wanted.
Never once did he miss his aim.
One day the prince saw Yann's
arrow pierce the blossom of a berga-
mot tree, and he commanded him to
be brought before him. The sery-
ant who led Yam to his excellency
trembled. But his excellency was in
good humor. He contented him
self with giving the culprit fifteen
lashes, after which he was sent to
the head huntsman, with orders
that he was to have uniform and
a gun.
Yam retained an agreeable re-
of his masters clemen-
cy. He wished to show that he was |
grateful. Besides shooting was his
ruling passion.
His skill surpassed that of all the |
most renowned marksmen of his
time. At forty PAGES he could send
a bullet directly through the eye of
an otter without the slightest in
jury to the fur. Then he would 81
lently deposit the dead beast at his
masters feet. Being repaid with
simple "Well done," Yam would
return to his thatched hut, surly |
and taciturn, without even glance
at the group Of maidens, who, with
petticoats daintily tucked up, !
washed their linen in the river.
He never spoke to any one. The
peasants held him in awe. Evil sto-
ries were current about him. They
may have been true. For Yam
there was but one law-the words
of his master; but one love-that
for his gun.
When the evening tea had been
drunk, the prince, making pretext
Of having some orders to give, took
leave Of the count, his only guest
that day, and having kissed his
wife's hand withdrew to his own
A half hour later he went down
into the garden.
There everything spoke Of love.