Why, he is Mr. Olcott. Haven't you heard of him?"

"No, I never did. At least not that I can remember."

The young lady seemed to be quite surprised, and asked him if he had
ever heard of Fred Fearnot.

"Oh, yes, I've heard of him in the public press many a time."

"Well, Mr. Olcott is Mr. Fearnot's partner, and they are both said to be
the best shots in the United States."

The fellow looked straight at Terry as if trying to size him up. He
hadn't really ever heard of Olcott to his recollection but shooting a
gull on the wing with a revolver was such an extraordinary feat that he
was willing to take the chances. He had seen him bring down one gull and
like the majority of men who take chances, decided that it was
impossible for it to be done very often.

By and by he looked up and saw a gull sailing over the deck and sung
out:

"There's a good shot. Try him."

Terry raised his gun and fired so quickly that none of the spectators
thought that he had even taken aim. The bullet struck the gull squarely
in the breast, and, of course, the bird came tumbling down right into
the group of passengers.

Exclamations of surprise burst from nearly every man on the deck.

The loser didn't seem to care anything about his loss, so Fred end Terry
sized him as a professional gambler.

"Would you like to try another shot?" Terry asked.

"Well, no; not at that price."

"Well, I'll give you odds of two to one."

"No, I've got enough," was the reply, and Terry laughed rather
sarcastically.

"I'll give you odds of a hundred to one," Terry said.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed another passenger. "Will you give me such odds,
mister?"

"Yes if this gentleman refuses."

"All right, I refuse," said the gentleman who had lost.

"Then I'll take it and put up a hundred dollars," said the second man.

"Well, that calls for ten thousand from me," replied Terry, and again he
waited for a good shot.

Finally another gull came flying over, about twice as high as the first
two.

Terry was going to wait for another chance, when the bettor angrily
exclaimed that he must want a bird to alight on the muzzle of his
revolver.

"Why, surely you don't expect to have me shoot at a bird that is really
out of range, do you?"

"No, but that wasn't out of range."

"My friend, you don't know anything about distance on either land or
water. That gull is at least a hundred yards above us," and nearly every
man on the deck agreed with Terry, b