Frank Merriwell's Athletes Part 60

Thirty b.a.l.l.s were broken! Two more would tie the Star and Bar man.

Every spectator was standing. Inza Burrage was confident, while Sadie Rodney was almost quivering with excitement. Miss Abigail looked calm and confident.

"Ther youngster is a wonder," said Pecos Pete. "I'll allow he kin shoot as well as ride, an' that's a right smart bit."

Thirty-one!

Another to tie!

Thirty-two!

The tie was made!

Charlie carefully cleaned his gun and prepared for the trial.

Frank was congratulated by his friends.

It was agreed that the shoot-off should be to see who could make the most points out of a possible hundred.

In the choice to see who should shoot last Frank felt that he was fortunate, as he had secured that privilege.

Indian Charlie was ready, and he took his stand. Then he proceeded to break fifty b.a.l.l.s without a miss.

Then, to the astonishment of all, Charlie missed the next ball.

That angered him, and he uttered a smothered exclamation. His anger did him harm, for he missed again.

The foreman of the Lone Star stopped to swab out his gun and cool off.

He realized that it would not do to continue shooting till his nerves were perfectly steady.

When he started in once more he seemed to smash the b.a.l.l.s with greater ease than before, and he made seventy-eight out of a possible eighty.

"That is more than enough to win," he laughed.

Then he seemed to grow careless, for he missed again.

He finished by making ninety-six out of one hundred shots.

"There," he said, "that is pretty bad, but it is good enough to beat the tenderfoot and have twenty to spare."

"We shall see," thought Frank.

Merriwell took the position Charlie had vacated, and then, to the amazement and disappointment of every one, missed the second ball.

No one was more surprised than Frank by the miss, but it did not rattle him in the least. He remembered the gun in his hands shot "close," and resolved to take unusual care.

Then he went on shooting, and for the next fifty shots he did not make a single miss.

Frank followed up his success with twenty-five more without a break, and then missed one.

When eighty was reached, Frank was tied, having made seventy-eight.

Now the excitement was greater than it had been at any time during the day, for it was seen that the tenderfoot stood an even chance of winning.

"He shall not win!" cried Indian Charlie, deep in his burning heart. "He must not win!"

Then for a moment he turned toward the nearest corral and lifted his hand to his hat in a peculiar manner.

No one observed this movement, for the attention of all seemed concentrated on the handsome youth who was doing the shooting.

Frank had made ninety-three out of ninety-five. With his next two shots he broke two more b.a.l.l.s.

If he broke another he would tie Indian Charlie.

Once more the foreman of the Lone Star faced toward the corral and made a rapid gesture. His face was pale and his hands shook. He felt that he would be eternally disgraced if beaten by this boy.

Bang!

Frank fired again and another ball was broken.

Charlie was tied!

Merriwell's friends got together, prepared to cheer when the next ball was broken.

Frank stood in readiness for the next ball.

"A thousand demons!" huskily whispered the foreman of the Lone Star. "If that half-breed--"

Snap!-a white ball sailed into the air.

Bang!-Frank tossed the gun to his shoulder and fired.

At the same instant he was seen to reel, drop the gun and fall forward on his face, as if death-stricken.

But he had smashed the ninety-seventh ball and won the shoot-off!

CHAPTER x.x.xV-WHO FIRED THE SHOT

Frank was lifted and carried into the house, and a cowboy by the name of Fisher, who had once practiced medicine, and was something of a surgeon, was rushed in to attend to him.

The cowboys and the others scattered to search for the unknown who had fired the dastardly shot.

Behind one of the corrals they found Billy Cornmeal, apparently dead drunk, an empty whisky bottle clasped to his breast.

They shook and hammered the half-breed, but not even several sharp p.r.i.c.ks with the point of a knife served to arouse him.