“Just that.”
She sighted and fired; and a ranchman who had run forward to the target, shouted back across the darkening space:
“Hit her plumb!”
A roar of applause greeted this announcement, but the girl accepted this tribute with no comment save another nod and smile, as she waited her teacher’s next direction.
This was given silently by a gesture downward.
Instantly Jessica dropped upon the ground, rested herself upon her elbows, aimed, fired, and–“Hit her again! Hooray for Our Lady! Hooray–hooray–hooray!”
In his excitement big Samson seized Mr. Hale by the sleeve and compelled that gentleman to jog-trot across the open and view at closer range the wonderful skill of the little maid who was so dear to them all.
“Stand aside, Psalm Singer. Your head’s in the way!” cautioned somebody.
Still clutching his companion, Samson obeyed, and they saw Jessica now lying upon her back, sighting upward and backward over her head a small, white object that had been placed in the target where the tack had been. There was no cheering then, nor any movement among the eager watchers who fairly held their breaths lest they disturb their darling in that supreme moment of her success or failure.
“But she’ll not fail!” thought more than one, and would have given a year’s wages that she should not.