Three birds flew at the same moment of time.
Bang! bang! bang!
Badger in his best shooting at two birds had never made cleaner kills. The clay birds seemed to vanish in puffs of dust at the crack of the gun. Merriwell put down Danny's repeater, and took up Bart's gun.
"Three birds again!" he commanded, as he dropped in the two shells and closed the breech with a click.
Almost before the words were out of his mouth, the birds were thrown.
Bang! bang! bang!
He killed the left and center birds with the two loads in the gun; then reloaded and killed the third bird before it could touch the ground!
Badger's face grew redder. There was a wild clapping of hands, joined in by many who were in Badger's crowd.
"Whoop-ee-e-ee!" squealed Danny, wildly waving his cap. "Who says we can't shoot?"
They had been shooting at a rise of twenty-five yards. Merriwell stepped back five yards, thus increasing the distance to thirty. He loaded his gun and held an extra shell in his left hand. Then he turned his back on the traps.