He shot the five shots without appreciable sighting before each,
as fast as his thumb could pull back the long-shanked hammer. The muzzle
of the weapon rose and fell with a regularity positively mechanical, and
the five shots had been delivered in half that number of seconds.
"There's your five," said he, carelessly dropping his gun back into its
holster.
The five bullets were found to be scattered within the six-inch black.
The concourse withdrew to give space for the next contestant. Silence
fell as the man was taking his aim. Amy touched Bob's arm. He looked
down. Her eyes were shining, and her cheeks red with excitement.
"Doesn't it remind you of anything?" she whispered eagerly.
"What?" he asked, not guessing her meaning.
"This: all of it!" she waved her hand abroad at the fair oval meadow
with its fringe of tall trees and the blue sky above it; at the
close-gathered knot of spectators, and the single contestant advanced
before them. He shook his head. "Wait," she breathed, laying her fingers
across her lips.
The contest wore along until it again came the turn of the younger man.
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