There were three targets to be shot at—one at short range, one at medium, and one at long range. It would be possible to score 20 points at each target, making a total of 60 points for each cadet.
In the past Gabe Werner had been a fairly good shot. He was in the habit of patronizing a shooting gallery in Haven Point, and the proprietor of this had given him many lessons in how to hold a rifle and how to take aim.
“I guess here is where I get a chance to show those dubs what I can do,” remarked Gabe to his cronies.
To make the contest more interesting for the cadets, Colonel Colby had authorized Captain Dale to put up six prizes; the first a gold medal, the second a silver medal, and the others various books of more or less value.
“Now, Fred, I want you to do your prettiest,” said Jack to his cousin. “You came out ahead of us last term, and this time I want you to top the whole school.”
“I’ll do my best,” answered the youngest Rover boy. “But, Jack, you’ve got to do your best, too.”
“Sure I will!”
The target practice lasted for three days, and the competition among more than half of the cadets was very keen. The others were such indifferent marksmen that they had no hopes of winning any of the prizes, and so they shot more because they were expected to do so than for any other reason.
“Well, I guess I’m keeping up my reputation!” cried Randy, with a grin, when his shooting had come to an end. “Twelve points at the first target, six at the second, and four at the long distance—a total of twenty-two points.”
“I’m a whole barrelful better than that!” answered his brother gaily. “I made twenty-three points. I guess we had both better open a school for target practice,” and he grinned broadly.