Then he strode
rapidly but evenly across the face of the target, discharging the five
bullets as he walked.
Again he reloaded. This time he stood with the revolver hanging in his
right hand gazing intently for some moments at the target, measuring
carefully with his eye its direction and height. He turned his back;
and, flipping his gun over his left shoulder, fired without looking
back.
"The first ten ought to be in the black," announced Ware, "The last five
ought to be somewheres on the paper. A fellow can't expect more than to
generally wing a man over his shoulder."
But on examination the black proved to hold but eight bullet holes. The
other seven, however, all showed on the paper.
"Comes of not wiping out the dirt once in a while when you're shooting
black powder," said Ware philosophically.
The crowd gazed upon him with admiration.
"That's a remarkable group of shots to be literally _thrown_ out at that
speed," muttered Thorne to Bob. "Why, you could cover them with your
hat! Well, young man," he addressed Elliott, "step up!"
But Elliott shook his head.
"Couldn't touch that with a ten-foot pole," said he pleasantly.
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