He stepped to the front, unbuckled a covered holster of the sort never
carried in the West, and produced one of those beautifully balanced,
beautifully finished revolvers known as the Officer's Model. Taking the
firm yet easy position of the practised target shot, he sighted with
great deliberation, firing only when he considered his aim assured.
Indeed, once he lowered his weapon until a puff of wind had passed. The
five shots were found to be not only within the black, but grouped
inside a three-inch diameter.
"'_A Hubert! A Hubert_!'" breathed the girl in Bob's ear. "_In the
clout_!"
"I thought his name was Elliott," said Bob. "Is it Hubert?"
The girl eyed him reproachfully, but said nothing.
"You're a _good_ shot, youngster!" cried Ware, in the heartiest
congratulation; "but if Mr. Thorne don't mind, I'd like to shoot off
this tie. Down in our country we don't shoot quite that way, or at that
kind of a mark. Will you take a try my way?"
Amy leaned again toward Bob, her face aflame.
"_'And now,'_" she shot at him, "'_I will crave your Grace's permission
to plant such a mark as is used in the north country; and welcome every
brave yeoman who shall try a shot at it_--'Don't dare tell me you don't
remember!"
"'_A man can but do his best_,'" Bob took up the tale.
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