With an effort he ceased building castles, pulled himself together, and mentally repeated Fernie's instruction on the rifle. He determined to acquit himself creditably.
Fernie had meanwhile set up the target about fifty yards away, and had moved to what he considered a safe distance. He now shouted to Black to have a shot, adding: "Don't be afraid of the darned thing, it won't hurt you. Besides, it doesn't matter if you do miss the first shot or two."
Black clenched his teeth, put the rifle to his shoulder, and aimed at the skull.
The rifle wobbled.
He was most anxious to make a good beginning.
The rifle went on wobbling.
He held his breath.
The rifle wobbled more.
He held his breath until his lungs nearly burst. Then, I'm afraid, he shut his eyes and pulled the trigger in desperation.
Goodness knows where the bullet went to. Fernie declared that it passed just over his head.