on the fly with No. 5, 6, or 2 shot, according to what he is loaded
for.

The man who lodges most shot in his cap is hailed as king of the
hunt, and stalks back triumphantly at dusk into Tarascon, with his
riddled cap on the end of his gun-barrel, amid any quantity of dog-
barks and horn-blasts.

It is needless to say that cap-selling is a fine business in the town.
There are even some hatters who sell hunting-caps ready shot, torn,
and perforated for the bad shots; but the only buyer known is the
chemist Bezuquet. This is dishonourable!

As a marksman at caps, Tartarin of Tarascon never had his match.

Every Sunday morning out he would march in a new cap, and back
he would strut every Sunday evening with a mere thing of shreds.
The loft of Baobab Villa was full of these glorious trophies. Hence
all Tarascon acknowledged him as master; and as Tartarin
thoroughly understood hunting, and had read all the handbooks of
all possible kinds of venery, from cap-popping to Burmese tiger-
shooting, the sportsmen constituted him their great cynegetical
judge, and took him for referee and arbitrator in all their
differences.

Between three and four daily, at Costecalde the gunsmith's, a stout
stern pipe-smoker might be seen in a green leather-covered arm-
chair in the centre of the shop crammed with cap-poppers, they all
on foot and wrangling. This was Tartarin of Tarascon delivering
judgement -- Nimrod plus Solomon.