"Can't hit a barn, can't I, by Heck!"
In each square a bullet went home. Then he reloaded and walked rapidly around the tree, still firing.
"An' I reckon that's a-makin' some nail-holes fer his galluses!"
And reloading again he ran around the tree, firing.
"An' mebbe I couldn't still git him if I was hikin' fer the corner of a house an' was in a LEETLE grain of a hurry to git out o' HIS range."
Examining results at a close range, the boy was quite satisfied—hardly a shot had struck without a band three inches in width around the tree. There was one further test that he had not yet made; but he felt sober now and he drew a bottle from his hip-pocket and pulled at it hard and long. The old nag grazing above him had paid no more attention to the fusillade than to the buzzing of flies. He mounted her, and Gray, riding at a gallop to make out what the unearthly racket going on in the hollow was, saw the boy going at full speed in a circle about the tree, firing and yelling, and as Gray himself in a moment more would be in range, he shouted a warning. Jason stopped and waited with belligerent eyes as Gray rode toward him.
"I say, Jason," Gray smiled, "I'm afraid my father wouldn't like that—you've pretty near killed that tree."
Jason stared, amazed—
"Fust time I ever heerd of anybody not wantin' a feller to shoot at a tree."
Gray saw that he was in earnest and he kept on, smiling.