Paul, a loaded rifle in his hands for the first time, took aim, and pulled the trigger. The shot went wild.
“You closed your eyes at the last moment, and wobbled the gun,” said Remington.
“Guess I did,” admitted Paul. “I was afraid to be so near the explosion.”
“Well, throw in another cartridge. That’s right. Throw the lever forward; now back. Be careful! It leaves it cocked, you see. Always remember, when you’re not going to shoot again immediately, to put the hammer down, and never carry a cocked gun. That’s a bad habit some sportsmen have, but a man that isn’t quick enough to cock his gun after he sees his game should practice until he can do it, and never go out with his gun until he can. With a rifle it’s never well to carry a cartridge in the chamber. You can throw one in as quickly as you need it. Now try again.”
Bang! The shot struck just beneath the bit of ice.
“Bully! Bully!” exclaimed Remington and Ainsworth together.
Paul flushed with pleasure and excitement. With the next shot he took more careful aim, and simultaneously with the crack of the rifle bits of splintered ice flew from the floating cake. This was indeed a good shot, for by this time the vessel had left the ice well behind.
“How was that?” asked Paul, with conscious pride.
“Good work!” Remington encouraged.
Several more practice shots were fired with varying success, the rifle cleaned, and Remington and Ainsworth went below to overhaul their fishing outfit.