“I can. I have been out six times, and I’m going to show you how to hit your man and save yourself.”
“I don’t want to hit Major Rockley.”
“But I want you to hit him and save yourself. My dear boy, you are worth five thousand Major Rockleys to your father, and we must not have you hurt.”
As he spoke, to Richard’s great surprise, he took out a brace of duelling pistols with flask and bullets, and after loading skilfully he took a few cards from his breast, and going to the stunted tree, tacked one on each of two boughs about on a level with a man’s outstretched arms, another on the trunk, and another higher still, where the head would be.
“I used to practise with the pistol a great deal at one time, Dick, and I could hit either of those address cards as many times as I liked.”
“Then I will not quarrel with you and call you out.”
“Don’t,” said the Colonel, handing him a pistol, and proceeding to step out fifteen paces. “There,” he said, “stand there and aim at that card on the trunk. That is where a man’s heart would be. I will count slowly, and when I come to three, raise your pistol quickly and fire.”
“One—two—three!”
Richard Linnell raised his pistol, and drew the trigger, but there was no report.
“It will not go off,” he said.