The Pony Rider Boys with the Texas Rangers Part 35

"Since we have been out. I am not much of a shot with the revolver, though. I think I can do better with the rifle."

"How about the rest of you?" questioned the captain. "Do all of you shoot like that?"

"I suppose I am about the best shot in the outfit," answered Stacy pompously. "I can hit a penny---"

"Yes, if the penny is glued to the muzzle," interrupted Ned.

"We'll see what you can do."

Stacy, after three shots, failed to hit the hat once. Walter and Ned each succeeded in placing a bullet through the professor's hat. Chunky insisted that his bullet went through one of the holes made by Tad Butler. He declared that he had never missed an easy shot like that in his life.

"Here, hit my hat," commanded Tad, tossing his sombrero into the air.

The fat boy watched the soaring hat with longing eyes.

"Shoot, shoot, why don't you?" jeered the Pony Rider Boys.

"All right if you say so."

Stacy's pistol stuck in the holster and by the time he had freed the weapon the sombrero was only some seven or eight feet from the ground.

"Yeow!" howled the fat boy letting go two bullets with a speed that they had no idea he possessed.

"It's a hit!" cried the professor.

Tad ran forward and picked up the hat.

"Well, what do you think of that?" he wondered.

"Did he hit it?" called Walter.

"Of course he did."

"Oh, pooh! That hole was in your sombrero before he shot," scoffed Ned Rector.

"You are wrong. There were no holes in the hat. Now there are two.

Stacy sent two bullets through my hat instead of one."

"Hooray!" shouted the boys.

"I didn't think it of you, Brown," smiled the captain. "I take back all I have said against your character and your ability."

"Oh, don't mention it. That's nothing. I usually shoot my hat full of holes before breakfast every morning when I'm home. Anybody else want his hat transformed into a sieve?"

"I think you have done quite enough," returned the professor. "You have done fully as well as I could have done. Ahem!"

"Really remarkable shooting for tenderfeet," declared the captain.

"Tenderfeet? Well, I like that!" grumbled Stacy. "Why, I'm a lion fighter, I am!"

"And a snake man as well," grinned the Ranger.

"Yes. I'm no tenderfoot. Did I run away when the shooting was going on last night? I guess not. I-----"

"No, he was too scared to run," snorted Rector.

Stacy regarded Ned solemnly.

"Ned Rector, I don't usually acknowledge you to be right in matters like this, but I'm going to admit before the whole company that you've told the truth for once in your---"

"I always tell the truth," broke in Ned.

"---life," finished the fat boy. "I was, as our distinguished fellow---tenderfoot says, scared stiff. But if the truth were known, I'll wager that he was hiding behind a rock when that same shooting was going on."

Rector flushed a rosy red, which brought a howl from the boys. It was plain that Chunky had touched him in a tender spot.

"Come now, you boys, if you want to try some more," called the Ranger.

"What now?" asked Tad.

"I want to see how you are on the draw---quick." The captain trimmed a piece of paper down to about the size of a silver dollar. This he pinned to a tree, then measuring off twenty paces, faced the mark, spun about on his toes, making two complete whirls and drove a bullet right into the center of the target, having drawn his revolver as he turned. It was a splendid piece of shooting.

The professor missed. He did not even hit the tree. Tad took a piece out of the edge of the target the first time. The second he placed a bullet just inside the outer edge, which McKay p.r.o.nounced to be excellent shooting. That was high praise from a man like Billy McKay.

Ned did not know whether he wanted to try that shot or not. McKay explained how to draw quickly and at what point of the whirl to draw, but try as he would Rector could not hit the mark. Once he chipped a piece of bark from the tree, which brought a yell from the boys.

"The trouble with you lads is that you grip your guns too tightly.

Take a light hold on the b.u.t.t of your revolver. Toy with it. It's the fellow with the feather-weight touch that does the best work with the revolver. He is the man to look out for."

"That's the way I always shoot," declared Chunky pompously. "If there's one shot that I can make better than another it's that one you fellows have been trying. Why, I could pink that target with my eyes shut."

"Try it. See what you can do. Perhaps you may beat us all, who knows?" grinned McKay.

"I don't say that I can beat _you_, but I can shoot as well as these amateurs who have been trying it. I can---"

"Look here, are you going to make that shot, Chunky?" demanded Rector.

"Yes. Got any objections?" asked Chunky turning to Rector with great deliberation.

"Not the least, if you'd kindly hold your fire till I can get behind a rock or a thick tree."

"Yes, that's the place for you, I reckon. All ready, Mr. McKay?"

"It's up to you," smiled the Ranger. "Does it make any particular difference to you which way I whirl?" asked the fat boy.

"Not in the least. You may stand on your head and whirl if it will suit you better."

"For goodness' sake, do something," begged Tad. "You've taken enough time already to shoot the tree clean off the map."

"Who's doing this shooting, you or I?" asked Chunky.