"'You'll see,' persisted the other. 'I tell you I pumped the cylinder full into him.'
"'Quite sure of that?' Webster asked.
"The other man said that he was, and Webster waved his handspike.
"'Then it's going to cost you sixty dollars, and I'll take a deposit now,' he said. 'It's my ox Fremont you've been after.'"
"Did they give it to him?" Frank broke in.
"Five dollars," Harry answered. "Webster looked big and savage, and they compromised on that."
"But had they hit the ox?"
Harry chuckled. "Give a man who isn't a hunter a repeater and he'll never hit anything—unless it's what he isn't shooting at."
"Anyway, it's better to stick to the single shot at first," Mr. Oliver remarked. "Then you take time and care, and it's more likely that when you shoot you kill. No humane person has any use for the man who leaves badly wounded beasts wandering about the woods."
He rose, and shook out his pipe.