“It’s our turn,” nodded Dan. “Keep cool.”
“I’m as cool as the hot sun will allow me to be, but I wish they would let me take off my jacket. I’ll ask them.”
“No, no, no,” protested Dan.
“Flink take your place.”
The dark-faced Pennsylvanian, a confident smile on his face, took his place toeing the mark. He took careful aim, pulled the trigger and lowered his weapon to his waist line.
“Bull’s-eye,” wig-wagged the signal man at the butts.
“Davis!” called the officer in charge.
Dan stepped to the mark, stood for a moment gazing off at the range. Then, raising his gun, he took aim and fired without loss of time. The onlookers thought he had missed, for his shot was apparently carelessly executed.
“Bull’s-eye,” came back the wig-wag signal.
A number of officers of the post had gathered to see the shooting, and a murmur of comment ran over the little throng.