“Oh, I heard it.”
“Yes, Reff and I are going to make star records,” came from Gus Coulter.
“Perhaps you think you can shoot better than Major Ruddy and Captain Conners?” questioned Andy Snow.
“We can,” came from Reff Ritter promptly. “When it comes to handling a rifle I don’t take a back seat for anybody.”
“Must have been practicing a tremendous lot lately,” was Pepper’s comment.
“Never mind what I’ve been doing,” growled Reff Ritter. “I’m willing to bet anybody here a new hat that I come out ahead to-morrow.” And he gazed around with a “you don’t dare to take me up” look.
“I’d take that bet,” answered Pepper dryly. “Only a new hat would do me no good—since I have to wear the regulation cap here. Just the same, Reff, my boy, you won’t come out ahead of Jack and Bart, and I know it—and neither will you, Gus.”
“Huh! just wait and see,” grumbled Coulter.
“You fellows think that because you have won a few races and things like that you can win everything,” said Reff Ritter, sourly. “Well, to-morrow you’ll find out differently. After the shooting is over you’ll see where I and Gus and Nick Paxton stand.” And with this remark he strutted off, arm in arm with Coulter.
“Say, but he is in a bad humor,” observed Andy Snow. “Somebody must have brushed his fur the wrong way.”