him.

Ware had by now taken his place at the new mark he had established.

"Fifteen shots," he announced. At the word his hand dropped to the butt
of his gun, his right shoulder hunched forward, and with one lightning
smooth motion the weapon glided from the holster. Hardly had it left the
leather when it was exploded. The hammer had been cocked during the
upward flip of the muzzle. The first discharge was followed immediately
by the five others in a succession so rapid that Bob believed the man
had substituted a self-cocking arm until he caught the rapid play of the
marksman's thumb. The weapon was at no time raised above the level of
the man's waist.

"Hold on!" commanded Ware, as the bystanders started forward to examine
the result of the shots. "Let's finish the string first."

He had been deliberately pushing out the exploded cartridges one by one.
Now he as deliberately reloaded. Taking a position somewhat to the left
of the target, he folded his arms so that the revolver lay across his
breast with its muzzle resting over his left elbow. Then he strode
rapidly but evenly across the face of the target, discharging the five
bullets as he walked.

Again he reloaded. This time he stood with the revolver hanging in his
right hand gazing intently for some moments at the target, measuring
carefully with his eye its direction and height. He turned his back;
and, flipping his gun over his left shoulder, fired without looking
back.

"The first ten ought to be in the black," announced Ware, "The last five
ought to be somewheres on the paper. A fellow can't expect more than to
generally wing a man over his shoulder."

But on examination the black proved to hold but eight bullet holes. The
other seven, however, all showed on the paper.

"Comes of not wiping out the dirt once in a while when you're shooting
black powder," said Ware philosophically.

The crowd gazed upon him with admiration.

"That's a remarkable group of shots to be literally _thrown_ out at that
speed," muttered Thorne to Bob. "Why, you could cover them with your
hat! Well, young man," he addressed Elliott, "step up!"

But Elliott shook his head.

"Couldn't touch that with a ten-foot pole," said he pleasantly. "Mr.
Ware has given me a new idea of what can be done with a revolver. His
work is especially good with that heavily charged arm. I wish he would
give us a little exhibition of how close he can shoot with my gun. It's
supposed to be a mor