Frank Merriwell's Reward Part 17

A smile came to the dark face of the Westerner--a stern, determined sort of smile.

"Better not give them to me, perhaps, Merry. I'm going to beat you if I can. We're tied now. If you miss, I shall get you. Better not give me any advantages."

"You can't beat me!" said Frank, looking straight into the eyes of the Kansan.

"Do you mean that you haven't been trying to shoot? I've been watching you, and I allow you have been doing your level best."

"You haven't watched closely, then. I threw away two shots awhile ago. I could hardly miss them when I tried. But I'm not anxious to beat any one to-day. I didn't come out here to make a record."

Badger flushed.

"All right. Throw away another shot and I'll beat you."

"I'll not throw away another, and you can't beat me, though you may tie me."

He was smiling and good-humored, and the Kansan tried to be.

Badger took the next two straight, and Merriwell did the same.

"I'm afraid he is going to tie you!" grumbled Hodge.

"What's the score?" asked Rattleton, roused to the fact that Badger and Merriwell were now really shooting against each other.

"Toodness, a guy--I mean, goodness, a tie! Don't let him beat you, anyway, Merry!"

"That comes from being too good-natured," growled Hodge. "He wouldn't be anywhere near you, if you'd tried."

Twice again both brought down their birds. Only a pair was left now to each. Every member of the gun club present, together with those who, like Badger, were being permitted to shoot through the favor of members, and all the spectators, as well, knew now that Badger and Merriwell had finally pitted themselves against each other in a friendly shooting contest, with the chances in favor of a tie.

Hodge was hardly able to breathe, and Harry Rattleton was fidgeting uneasily. The spectators craned their necks as Badger, whose trial came first, walked into position with an air of easy confidence, that dark, determined smile disfiguring his face.

"I'm afraid your chances are gone, Merriwell!" droned Dismal Jones. "'We never miss the water till the well runs dry.'"

"Keep still," grunted Browning, "or you'll make me nervous!"

"I wish somebody would make Badger nervous!" wailed Bink.

"Sing out that a queen bee is coming for him!" urged Danny, in an undertone.

"Keep still!" said Merriwell.

Badger balanced his gun, called "Pull!" and threw it into position as the birds sprang from the trap.

A deafening explosion followed. The gun was torn to pieces and Badger was hurled backward to the ground.

CHAPTER X.

BADGER'S CHALLENGE.

Merriwell and others sprang toward him to offer their aid. Frank could hardly believe what he had seen and heard. He feared Badger was seriously or fatally injured, but was relieved before he reached the Kansan to see the latter rise unsteadily to his feet.

Badger looked dazedly about, then down at his numbed left hand and arm.

They felt dead, and he could hardly lift them. But he saw they were not mangled.

"I hope you are not hurt!" Frank exclaimed.

The blood rushed in a great wave into the Westerner's dark face, and he gave Frank a strange look.

"Your gun has gone to pieces!" he said gruffly.

"But I hope you are not hurt. There are other guns. I don't understand how it happened."

There was a suspicious light in Badger's eyes.

"I'll not be able to beat you," he said. "I don't know that I can shoot again, and it's a wonder, I reckon, that my arm wasn't torn off."

He turned toward the exploded gun. The stock was uninjured and the lock mechanism, but the muzzle end of the right barrel was split open and a section blown out of it.

"You didn't get mud or anything of that kind in the muzzle?" Merriwell questioned, anxiously examining the ruined weapon. "That will sometimes make a gun explode."

"None whatever!" Badger grumbled, nursing his numbed hand and arm, while a crowd gathered round him and Merriwell, asking excited and eager questions. "Do you think I'm fool enough to do a thing like that?"

Frank plucked at Rattleton's arm.

"Take charge of that box of sh.e.l.ls," he said, in an undertone. "Don't let any one touch them. The box from which I took the sh.e.l.ls for Badger!

I'm afraid the sh.e.l.ls in it have been tampered with."

"Agnew!" Rattleton gasped. "He's somewhere on the grounds, you know, and he was right up here awhile ago!"

"I don't know. It may be. We can tell better later. Just now, take charge of that box. No more sh.e.l.ls must be used out of it, nor out of any others of mine."

"All right!" Rattleton promised, and moved quickly away.

"How is your hand and arm?" Merriwell asked, again addressing Badger.

"Well, I allow it's good enough to do some more shooting!" Badger snarled, giving Hodge a suspicious glance. "You didn't beat me! I missed that bird; but the gun blew up was the reason. I'll shoot you those two, yet; but I'd rather try you ten birds straight--ten double rises, just the kind we were shooting at. I reckon we'd better settle this thing square!"

There was something very unpleasant in his tone and manner. Hodge saw the glance, heard the words, and could hardly resist the temptation to walk up and knock him down.

"The scoundrel!" he hissed to Browning. "What is he driving at? Does he mean that Merry hasn't given him a fair deal, or that he had the gun explode in some way to keep from being tied by him, or beaten? Perhaps he is hinting crooked work against me! If he does, I'll punch his head, sure. Frank is a fool to stand such stuff."

Merriwell showed a slight trace of annoyance. He took Badger by the arm and they walked aside together. A dozen men were examining the gun, and a score more were craning their necks to get a look at it, while all sorts of excited conjectures and comments filled the air.

"See here, Badger," said Merriwell, somewhat sternly. "You think Hodge may be responsible for that accident. He isn't--no more than I am! You either had mud in the gun----"