Frank Merriwell's Reward Part 16

"Of course I didn't want to take away all the courage of you fellows by hitting the first bird," he blandly explained. "But I could have done it."

The conditions for shooting were fair, for the wind was not so strong as it had been earlier in the day. Several shots were made, together with a number of hits. Then Buck Badger's name was called, and he went up to the line with Merriwell's gun. One of the boys who was manipulating the traps sprung the middle one, and the bird shot swiftly off to the right.

It was a rather difficult target, but Badger knocked the clay bird into dust.

"A good shot!" some one called from the crowd.

"It was a good shot!" Merriwell commented.

Dismal Jones followed Badger, and knocked down the straightaway bird which was sprung from the right-hand trap.

"Now the earth will fall!" squeaked Bink, for Browning's name was called, and Bruce got up lazily from the ground and walked slowly into position. Bruce disliked a light gun, and carried a heavy ten-gage, notwithstanding the fact that trap-shooting rules required the users of such guns to shoot from a longer distance. He believed that the heavier weight and heavier load more than offset this.

Danny stuck his fingers into his ears as Bruce stood ready to fire the "cannon." Then there was a thunderous report, as the clay bird flew through the air, and was knocked to pieces by the impact of the shot.

"Was it an earthquake?" asked Bink, falling back on the ground. "He'll be wanting to shoot a Krupp gun next!"

"Watch me this time!" said Danny, as he stepped into position. "It's easier for me to do difficult things. If those traps would only throw out a dozen birds at once, I'd show you some nice work!"

"Yes, you might get one out of the whole flock," said Diamond. "If it was a very dense flock, you might get two."

Ten rounds had been fired, and two birds were to be thrown now at the same time at unknown angles.

"Ready?" asked the boy.

"Pull!" commanded Danny, throwing up his gun.

The birds flew, but Danny did not shoot.

"I thought one was going to jump out of the right-hand trap," he grinned, "and it didn't."

"Give him another chance," said Dismal. "He oughtn't to be forgiven for anything, but we'll forgive him."

"Spit on your hands!" some one yelled.

Danny put down his gun, very deliberately spat on his hands, then took up his gun again.

"Pull!" he commanded.

Two birds flew--one from the right-hand trap and one from the middle trap. Bang! bang! Danny fired at both, but the birds sailed on and descended in the gra.s.s.

"These sh.e.l.ls aren't any good!" he a.s.serted, looking wonderingly into the powder-stained barrels of the gun. "Or else this gun isn't choked right for trap shooting. I held on both of those birds."

"You mean you aren't choked right for trap shooting," said Bink, as Danny came back.

"I'll choke you!" Danny cried, hurling himself on Stubbs and gripping him by the throat.

"Stop it!" commanded Bruce, as they struggled on the gra.s.s. "If you don't, we'll fire you out of the crowd."

Jack Diamond did the best shooting this time, cleanly killing both birds. Merriwell and others struck both birds, but Diamond made the cleanest kill. Danny ambled out again with his repeater, and this time brought down a bird.

"Talk about easy things!" he spouted, thrusting out his chest as he pranced back.

"That's right!" howled Bink. "You're the easiest thing on the planet.

That bird was broken and all ready to fall to pieces when it left the trap. I paid the boy to fix it for you."

"You're another!" Danny declared. "I hit that bird fair and square. See if you can do better."

"I'm going to hit both!" Bink declared, and for a wonder he did.

"Take me home to mommer!" squealed Danny.

"Talk about shooting!" exclaimed Bink, sticking his hat on the back of his head. "What's the matter with that, eh?"

"Oh, you're a wonder!" exclaimed Danny. "Accidents are bound to happen sometimes, you know."

Browning made clean misses, and Diamond got only one bird. The shooting of most of the others was not of the best.

"I suppose there isn't any way to clip the wings of those things?"

grumbled Dismal, who had missed. "They get up and get away so fast that I can't pull on them half the time. I could hit my bird if I could find it. But when I point my gun at it and pull the trigger, it isn't there."

"Pull ahead of it," Merriwell advised.

"Yes, you must use ahead work," said Bink. "If you have a head, that is what it's for. That's the way I did, and you saw the result. I can get 'em every time now."

As the shooting continued, it was seen that Badger was doing good work, though nothing at all phenomenal. He stepped into position with an air of confidence, fired quickly, and then stepped back. But he kept away from Merriwell's crowd, mingling with others from Yale whom he knew.

Hodge's score and the Westerner's were nearly alike. Hodge saw it and squirmed. Then Merriwell, who had made only one miss, scored two "goose eggs," and Badger climbed up to him.

"I don't like that," Bart grumbled. "You're not doing your best, Merry.

Badger may beat you."

Merriwell was cleaning out and cooling his gun--Bart's gun--which both were using, and which had grown hot and foul from rapid firing. The first round of twenty shots was nearing its close. Only four more shots were to be fired in it, at two pairs of birds. Badger had to his credit thirteen hits and three misses, and Merriwell the same.

"If you should miss one of the four and Badger should hit them all you would be beaten!" Bart urged uneasily. "And I don't want you to be beaten by him. I'm afraid you are going to tie. I want you to beat him.

I can't stand it to have him crowing round."

Merriwell smiled placidly.

"Don't steam so, Hodge. It just heats you up, and makes you unhappy. If Buck Badger should beat me, I don't see that it would make a great difference. I haven't been shooting for a record this afternoon."

"All right," said Hodge. "However good your intentions may be, that fellow will never give you honest credit for them."

The shooting had recommenced, and Hodge walked back to the crowd, plainly disgruntled.

Merriwell clutched a handful of sh.e.l.ls and went over to Badger.

"Try these, Buck!" he said. "They're a good deal better than those you've been using. I had them loaded very carefully under my own supervision for this kind of work, and you'll find them very fine.

They're just suited to that gun, too. You have really been shooting at a disadvantage to-day."