“Well, let's see you then; you talk so much!” And Penrod handed the weapon scornfully to Sam, who at once became less self-assertive.
“I'd shoot her off in a minute,” Sam said, “only it might break sumpthing if it hit it.”
“Hold her up in the air, then. It can't hurt the roof, can it?”
Sam, with a desperate expression, lifted the revolver at arm's length. Both boys turned away their heads, and Penrod put his fingers in his ears—but nothing happened. “What's the matter?” he demanded. “Why don't you go on if you're goin' to?”
Sam lowered his arm. “I guess I didn't have her cocked,” he said apologetically, whereupon Penrod loudly jeered.
“Tryin' to shoot a revolaver and didn't know enough to cock her! If I didn't know any more about revolavers than that, I'd—”
“There!” Sam exclaimed, managing to draw back the hammer until two chilling clicks warranted his opinion that the pistol was now ready to perform its office. “I guess she'll do all right to suit you THIS time!”
“Well, whyn't you go ahead, then; you know so much!” And as Sam raised his arm, Penrod again turned away his head and placed his forefingers in his ears.
A pause followed.
“Why'n't you go ahead?”