“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.”
“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.