"Hurrah for Ben!"
"That's a good one!"
"There's another!"
He fired the same number of shots as that allowed to the club, and the score was better than any made by the others, beating even that of the prize-winner.
"I thought I could do it," he said, with sparkling eyes, "but I didn't want to risk it in the match. Perhaps I couldn't have done it, either. I shouldn't have been so cool."
The boys were too excited over the long-talked-of matches to enter upon any other sport, and they gathered in knots on the ledges and in front of the tents, talking about this and that rifle or bow, or the scores of the different marksmen, comparing them with those of former matches.
"Come--to-morrow is packing-up day, and we've got to be up early.--and have all the fun we can before the steamboat swoops down on us."
"Like a wolf on the fold," added Fred.
"Oh, that dreadful monster!" cried Max. "If it would only forget to come."
"Or break its paddle-wheel," added Ned.