"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 shells 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."
A smile came to the dark face of the Westerner—a stern, determined sort of smile.
"Better not give them to me, perhaps, Merry. I'm going to beat you if I can. We're tied now. If you miss, I shall get you. Better not give me any advantages."
"You can't beat me!" said Frank, looking straight into the eyes of the Kansan.
"Do you mean that you haven't been trying to shoot? I've been watching you, and I allow you have been doing your level best."
"You haven't watched closely, then. I threw away two shots awhile ago. I could hardly miss them when I tried. But I'm not anxious to beat any one to-day. I didn't come out here to make a record."