“I scorn to notice yer slur: what do ye say, docther?”
The physician said nothing, but walked to the sapling, the others trailing after him. Taking out his pocket knife, he began digging with the blade into the soft wood. From the very center of the white spot, he gouged out a pellet of lead, and held it out to Mike.
“That is yours; you made a perfect bull’s eye.”
“Av course; did ye doubt I would do the same?”
“Hooh! all chance! you can’t do it again,” called Hoke, uttering a truth that was as apparent to Mike as to the others.
“It’s yer turn,” replied the hero of the exploit; “do ye make the attempt yersilf; if ye can equal me, then I’ll take me turn again.”
CHAPTER XIII — The Committee of Investigation
Lightning seldom strikes twice in the same place, though I have known it to do so, and Mike Murphy was too wise to try a second shot, when there was not one chance in a million of repeating his feat. With his loftiest air he proposed that he and Hoke should take turns in displaying their skill.
“I’ve made a bull’s eye,—do the same or betther and I’ll take a whack and beat that,—and so it will go. Am I corrict, dochther, in me sintiments?”
“Undoubtedly; you can’t refuse Mike’s offer, Hoke.”