“I wish we could beat him, and beat Pelton, too.”
“Well, we can try.”
The contest was to come off on the following afternoon. The day proved clear, and a goodly number of those stationed at the fort gathered to witness the shooting. The target, a large affair of wood, with several rings and a bull’s-eye, was nailed to a tree, and a stump marked the spot where each contestant must stand while shooting. Each contestant was to have three shots, and the highest possible score was eighteen points.
The first soldier to shoot, a man named Pepperley, made two points with his first shot. Another made three, and another five. Then came Gasway, who made five also, and Pelton, who made six.
“Now, Dave,” said Henry, and Dave stepped to the front, took careful aim, and pulled the trigger.
“Four!” announced the officer who was keeping the tally.
Dave was a trifle disappointed, as he had hoped to make at least five. Yet he managed to smile as he turned to Henry.
“You can do better than that, I know,” he said.
Two other marksmen now came to the front, making four each. Then it was Henry’s turn.
The youth took his time about shooting, and when the smoke cleared away a shout went up: