Before the experiment could be made, they were startled by hearing the report of a gun or a pistol from some point not far off, though the direction was different from either that had been indicated.
As they listened, a second, third and fourth report rang through the forest arches, followed quickly by two more, and all was still.
There might be several explanations of the incident, but it was idle to spend time in guessing, when it was easy to learn the truth. Mike, followed by his friend, walked rapidly toward the point whence the reports had come, and a few minutes later everything was clear.
Dr. Spellman was standing in a space free from undergrowth and practising with his revolver. With his knife he had gashed the bark off a sapling several feet above the ground, so as to show a white spot the size of a dollar. Standing a dozen or more paces distant, he aimed carefully and put the whole six bullets within a spot not more than two inches in diameter, three of them being bull’s eyes.
“I couldn’t do better mesilf!” exclaimed Mike, when he understood the feat.
“You can’t tell till you try; I am not sure you are not an expert.”
“Nor am I, though I have me doubts.”
Having reloaded the weapon the doctor handed it to Mike, who slowly raised his arm to a level, shut one eye, and squinted some seconds over the short barrel, while the doctor and Hoke, standing a foot or two to the rear, kept their eyes upon the little white spot in the distance. Then a sharp crack sounded and the marksman lowered the pistol.
“Did ye obsarve where me shot landed?” he asked of his friends.
“I think it nipped the leaves somewhere overhead,” replied Hoke.