I was a trifle angry with myself by this time, but it only left me well keyed.  My bird fell dead inside of Orme’s.  A murmur of applause ran down the line.  “Silence in the court,” thundered Judge Reeves.

We shot along for ten birds, and Orme was straight, to my nine killed.  Stevenson whispered to me once more.  “Take it easy, and don’t be worried about it.  It’s a long road to a hundred.  Don’t think about your next bird, and don’t worry whether he kills his or not.  Just you kill ’em one at a time and kill each one dead.  You mustn’t think of anything on earth but that one bird before you.”

This was excellent advice in the game, and I nodded to him.  Whatever the cause, I was by this time perfectly calm.  I was now accustomed to my gun, and had confidence in it.  I knew I could shoot to the top of my skill, and if I were beaten it would be through no fault of my own nerves and muscles, but through the luck of the birds or the greater skill of the other man.

Orme went on as though he could kill a hundred straight.  His time was perfect, and his style at the trap beautiful.  He shot carelessly, but with absolute confidence, and more than half the time he did not use his second barrel.

“Old Virginia never tires,” whispered Stevenson.  “He’ll come back to you before long, never fear.”

But Orme made it twenty straight before he came back.  Then he caught a strong right-quarterer, which escaped altogether, apparently very lightly hit.  No one spoke a word of sympathy or exultation, but I caught the glint of Stevenson’s eye.  Orme seemed not in the least disturbed.

We were now tied, but luck ran against us both for a time, since out of the next five I missed three and Orme two, and the odds again were against me.  It stood the same at thirty, and at thirty-five.  At forty the fortune of war once more favored me, for although Orme shot like a machine, with a grace and beauty of delivery I have never seen surpassed, he lost one bird stone dead over the line, carried out by a slant of the rising wind, which blew from left to right across the field.  Five birds farther on, yet another struggled over for him, and at sixty-five I had him back of me two birds.  The interest all along the line was now intense.  Stevenson later told me that they had never seen such shooting as we were doing.  For myself, it did not seem that I could miss.  I doubt not that eventually I must have won, for fate does not so favor two men at the same hour.

We went on slowly, as such a match must, occasionally pausing to cool our barrels, and taking full time with the loading.  Following my second’s instructions perfectly, I looked neither to the right nor to the left, not even watching Orme.  I heard the confusion of low talk back of us, and knew that a large crowd had assembled, but I did not look toward the row of carriages, nor pay attention to the new arrivals which constantly came in.  We shot on steadily, and presently I lost a bird, which came in sharply to the left.