But Pat was obdurate, and with many an exaggerated grunt and groan the remains of the feast were cleared away, the dishes washed and the cabin set to rights. Then followed a lazy hour before the rifle match. It was agreed that Pat and Alec, both of whom were expert shots, should count as a clean miss any shot not striking in the black, while the others should be credited with whatever their actual scores were. Each was to be allowed ten shots. The bull's-eye counted ten, the first ring outside counted nine, the next ring eight, and so on. Each was allowed three trial shots to get the range.
Hal was the first to take his trial shots. At the crack of the rifle Upton ran forward to examine the target. "Never touched it! Didn't even hit the board! Some shooter you are, Hal!" he yelled.
Hal flushed, but said nothing. For his second shot he took plenty of time and was as careful as he knew how to be. The result was the same. For his third shot he used a rest, which was contrary to the rules, but was allowed, as this was only a trial shot. This time he nicked a splinter from one edge of the board on which the target was fastened.
"Here, let me see that rifle," cried Pat, striding forward and snatching the gun out of Hal's hands. He sighted it, then handed it back with a grin. "Will ye tell me how iver ye got thot wan rabbit wid a gun the loikes av thot?" he demanded.
"Why, what's the matter with the gun?" demanded Hal, reaching for it, a puzzled scowl furrowing his brows.
Alec forestalled him and took the rifle from Pat's hands. He in turn sighted along the barrel. "Laddie," said he, the soberness of his face belied by the twinkle in his eyes, "do ye no ken that a gun is like a fine lady? It must be treated wi' respect."
Hal took the gun with a puzzled look. "I don't quite get you fellows yet," said he.
Pat laughed outright. "Look at your forward sight, man. You've hit the end of your barrel against something and knocked that sight a wee bit out of alignment. It must have been pure luck that you got that rabbit this morning."
"Use my rifle," interrupted Walter.
"Thanks," replied Hal. "I believe I will. Even if I got the sights adjusted on my gun I shouldn't be able to shoot. Every time I made a poor shot I'd have the feeling that it was the gun's fault. My, but it is a relief to know that I haven't gone back in my shooting quite so badly as all that."