“There,” said Frank, as he leaned the board against a tree, “that makes a good target.”
“By Jawve!” exclaimed Archie. “It’s verwy small, don’t yer ’now!”
“Oh, that is large enough. We will stand down there by that knoll. That is a fair shot.”
“What?” gurgled Archie, astonished. “Why, that is a dweadful distance!”
He walked off about fifteen yards, and then turned about, observing:
“I weally think this is faw enough.”
“Why, it will be no job to hit that spot every time at this distance,” said Frank.
“Haw!” exclaimed Elmer, giving Frank a scornful look. “Anyone would think you are weally a cwack shot to heah you talk.”
“I do not claim to be a great shot,” said Frank; “but[88] it would be an accident if I missed that black spot at this distance once out of fifty times.”
“I don’t believe you can hit it at all,” said Cholly.
Frank was standing with his rifle half lifted, the side of the stock pressing against his hip. He had silently cocked it, and now, without lifting it to his shoulder, he fired.
Both the city sportsmen uttered cries of alarm and jumped away.
“Good gwacious!” fluttered Gates. “Did it go awf by accident?”
“No,” laughed Frank. “I fired at that spot on the board.”
“But you didn’t take aim, thir!” palpitated Elmer.
“I didn’t take the rifle to my shoulder, as it was not necessary at this distance. That I hit the board is certain, for it has fallen down. I think you will find I struck the spot with my bullet. We will go and see.”
When they picked up the board, Frank showed them that the bullet had pierced the black mark very near the center. For some moments both city lads were overcome with astonishment, and then Archie said:
“It must have been an accident. Of course, you could nawt do it again, thir.”
“I think I could,” smiled Merry, coolly.
“Well, weally you must have a most wemarkable gun, don’t yer ’now. I think I will twy it.”
The board was put up again, and they returned to their former position. Archie attempted to shoot the same as Frank had done, but his rifle was pointing toward the[89] top of the tree against which the board leaned when he fired. Of course, he did not touch the board.
“I nevah pwacticed that way,” he said. “I will twy the wegular way.”
Then he took careful aim and fired.
Examination showed he had not touched the board or the tree.
“It’s verwy vexing!” he exclaimed. “Awfter all I paid faw this wifle, it is no good, don’t yer see?”
Again and again he fired, and, with his seventh shot, he hit the board near the bottom, so it fell over again. Both he and Cholly gave a mild shout of delight and hurried forward to see where the bullet had struck.
“I should not like to be anywhere in a strip of woods while that chap was shooting at a deer,” grunted Browning, with a lazy grin.
“If I were anywhere in the woods I should want to be in the deer’s place,” laughed Frank. “It would be the safest position.”
“Why do you want that rifle?” asked Browning. “We are going out of the woods now.”
“That’s all right. I don’t want it for myself.”
“No? Who for, then?”
“For John Caribou. He sacrificed his own half-brother to save us from being punished as poachers, and I’d like to send him that handsome rifle as a token of my regard for him.”
“It’s a good idea,” declared Bruce, at once, “if you can get that rifle at a reasonable figure, and it really will shoot all right. No one but you, Merry, would have[90] thought of such a thing. Diamond was convinced at last that the guide, even though he was an Indian, was not treacherous; but neither he nor I thought of rewarding him for his true nobility.”
“I thought of it,” said Frank; “and I offered John money.”
“He would not take it?”
“Not a cent more than he had agreed to take to act as our guide. If I send him that rifle, providing it is all right, it will be something he will appreciate.”
By this time the city sportsmen were returning, having leaned the board against the tree once more. They were laughing with triumph, and Archie exclaimed:
“The wifle is beginning to shoot better, don’t yer ’now. Perhaps it may come wound all wight.”
“Let me try it?” asked Frank.
“No, thir,” said the owner; “I couldn’t think of it. You have youah own. Let’s see if you can hit that board again, thir.”
“Well,” said Frank, not permitting himself to become angry, “if I am going to do any shooting, I must get away at a reasonable distance.”
He walked back till he could barely see the black mark in the center of the envelope. Then he whirled about and pumped six bullets out of his rifle with such speed that Archie and Cholly were simply dazed. With the final shot the board fell over.
“Good gwacious!” gurgled Cholly; “what do you want to waste shots like that faw? You couldn’t hit anything shooting that way, thir.”
[91]
“If you do not find I have struck that envelope with every bullet I fired, I shall be surprised,” said Merriwell, quietly.
They walked up to the tree and picked up the board. Examination revealed the astonishing fact that every bullet had struck within the black circle, cutting out a ragged hole there.
The city sportsmen were dazed. To them it was a marvel they could not understand.
“Have you a pack of cards in your pocket, Bruce?” asked Frank, knowing the big fellow had taken a pack into the woods.
Browning produced the cards, and Merriwell selected the five-spot of spades from it. That card he fastened to the tree with two pins, and then they retreated till the spots could barely be seen. Frank refilled the magazine of his rifle, and began shooting at the card. He fired somewhat slower and more carefully. With the fifth shot, the card fell to the ground.
Archie hurried forward and picked it up. Then he leaned limply against the tree, staring stupidly.
“What has he done, deah boy?” asked Cholly, coming up.
“Look!” gasped Elmer, holding out the card.
Frank had shot the five spots off the card with five bullets!
“Weally, I nevah saw anything like that!” declared Archie. “He must have a splendid shooting gun, don’t yer ’now.”
[92]
“It is most remarkable,” drawled Cholly, still staring at the card.
Frank laughed as he refilled the magazine of his rifle with cartridges.
There was a chattering scream out over the river, and a kingfisher came flitting along like a blue streak.
Merriwell wheeled and took a snap shot at the bird. It was more of a chance shot than anything else, as Frank afterward confessed to Browning, but the bird dropped into the water and floated down the stream with the current, its head shot off.
That capped the climax.
“That is a wonderful gun, thir!” cried Archie, still failing to give Frank any particular credit for his skill, but seeming to think the gun was entirely responsible for the rather remarkable display of shooting.
“Yes; it is a very good rifle,” nodded Frank, smilingly; “but it is not such a handsome weapon as that one you have.”
“What is a handsome wifle good faw if it won’t shoot!” burst forth Archie’s friend.
“That’s it,” sighed Archie, himself. “I wish I owned that wifle,” he declared, looking longingly at Frank’s weapon.
“How will you swap?” asked Merry, promptly.
“Oh, I’ll thwap!” cried Elmer, eagerly. “I know I could hit thomething with that wifle. But I paid two hundrwed dollahs faw this one.”
“And I paid twenty-eight dollars for this one,” laughed Frank. “Quite a difference.”
[93]
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CHAPTER X. THE STOLEN RIFLE.
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