“Bull’s-eye!” he cried joyously. “Now try again!”
“I suppose I must learn not to be bothered.”
She pressed her lips together, and steadied herself resolutely. She would show him! The next shot cut a furrow in the bark of the pine; the second struck within two inches of the target; and the third pinked the edge of the paper itself.
“That will do for this time,” she said, in some elation, as she handed the gun to Huntington.
“To-morrow you’ll do better,” he assured her. “And then we’ll try it at longer range.”
He began to pick up the cartridge boxes and his own rifle.
“You’re not riding to-day?” said Smythe.
“How did you guess it?” she demanded, laughing.
“Oh, a truce! A truce!” he pleaded. “I mean, if you are not going for a ride, will you walk up the hill there?”