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The Adventures of Bobby Orde

Chapter 7 UNTIL THE LAST SHOT

Word Count: 4608    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

h until Sunday, when Bobby duly scrubbed and dressed, had to go to church with his father and mother. Bobby, to tell the truth, did not care very much for church. Always his

t with the collection boxes on the end of handles, like exaggerated corn-poppers, did the lethargy into which he had fallen break for a moment. The irregular passage of the receptacle from one to another was at least a motion not ordered in t

so passionately to be desired as to belong to the category of the inaccessible-like Mr. Orde's revolver on the top shelf of the closet

urpose of getting a boat. The boat idea lost attraction. His papa had agreed to give half. Bobby lost himself in an exciting daydream involving a

ched to the Flobert Rifle, was a stencill

An-nual Trap Shoot, Monrovia Sp

at. It had never occurred to poor little Bobby that there might be other Flobert rifles in the world;

a struck him, an idea filled with comfort. The Rifle was not necessarily lost, after

win it and give it t

ray eyes turned from buying black powde

ather's going to win the rifle and

by simply; "my papa can

an la

rifles, and what would y

by with great positiveness, "and I k

Flobert from the show window. The o

about this one,

g has one turn in twenty-eight inches; and it has a knife-blade front sight, and a bar rear sight; and

the man. "He

k like a mirror; the gold plating of the most fancy lock and guards like the sheen of silk. Bobby loved, too, the indescribable gun smell of it-compounded probably of the odou

, a little awed, "would you mind l

all, square, delightful, red box. It had reading on it, and a portrait o

e," said he at last.

lars," repli

dened to their

sped; "I thought it

d excited with the thought of eventual ownership, Bobby marched out the door, where he was

e, brown man with the twinkling gr

d. "Hear you have a sure

hat you talking about? You know I

were going to win that rifle dow

face

h," said he. "I'm going West in September. Woul

me of things seemed shattered. For a long time he sat staring w

sed a spring in the barrel, which in turn projected a pebble or other missile a short and harmless distance. Then a ramrod re-set the spring. When, the previous Christmas, Bobby had acq

nd spattered harmlessly against the boards. Thrice Bobby repeated this. Then, quite without heat or rancour, he threw the toy gun and what remained of the shot over the fence into the vacant lot behind it. His common sense had foretold just this result to his experiment, so he was not in the least disappointed; but he had considered it his duty to try the only expedient his in

y day of the Shoot-Mr. O

d to the right, away from town, and set himself

t. The sun was hot, and the way dusty. Many buggies and one large carry-all passed him, each full of the participants in the contest. No one thought

d a hearty voi

drawn by a gaunt white horse. On the seat

the Shoot?

ir," sa

, jum

eat so Bobby could climb in from the rear. Then h

it of gray clothes, wrinkled and baggy. Somehow, in contrast, his skin showed browner t

" said he, "wher

Mr. Kincaid's worn leather gun-case, and an oblong japanned box which

choked; and looked away quickly to h

that the old white horse, mistaking the movement fo

us!" cried Mr. Ki

lance at the older man; and suddenly without reason a great wave of affection swept over him. He liked his companion's clear brown skin, and the close clipped gray of his hair, and his big gray moustache beneat

followed many wheel tracks to the farther confines of the field where, under

t day did you start? The old thing must be about dead. Lean

on schedule time, boys," replied Mr.

here and there at distances that varied as the gun-shyness of the horses. Bob

e with a delight that even his just c

n each of which had been thrust a slotted hickory "wiper" threaded with a square of cloth. A fairly large empty wooden box, for the reception of exploded shells, marked the spot on which the shooters would sta

shots have in common everywhere certain qualities, probably developed by the life in the open, and the unique influences of woodland and upland hunting. They are generous, and large in spirit, and absolutely democ

or the cover. They knew each other in the freemasonry of the Field; and when

vance of his time, shot methodically and well at the trap, never went afield

hot well or ill. That was to him the sole criterion. It did not matter to him that Mr. Heinzman controlled the largest interests in the western pa

omething. The tobacco sme

t show up before long, I'm going home. I can't stand you

t that old Buzzard toward town pretty soon, if you

into the field, and drove briskly to the

te, boys; just couldn't

unloaded boxes of shells, two camp stools and a number of barrels. The driv

e about the size of a base-ball, had an opening at the top, and were filled with feathers. John, the driver of the delivery wagon, climbed down into a pit below the trap. H

e inscribed the men's names. Each gave him two dollars and a half as an entrance fee.

on deck!" called the score

rom the rack and stepped forward to the mark. Then he loaded one barrel of the gun and stood at ready. In thos

he in his dry

ed the trap pul

nded Mr. Newm

d revolve before springing; nor in what direction it would throw the target. Nevertheless the mark offered would now, in comparison with our saucer-shaped target, be considered easy. Mr. Newmark brought his gun to his shoulder and discharge

e referee in a brisk

the group. Bobby snuffed it eagerly. He thought it the most delicious smell in the world; and so continued to think it for many year

Wellman on deck!"

to break open a box of shells. Mr. Newmark thrust his gun barrels into o

Bobby heard a man tell a

t style," comme

ow spoke aloud. The chaffing had ceased. Shooter's etiquette prohibited anything that even by remote possibility might "rattle" the contestants. Only the voices of the men at mark and the referee

t, shortest syllable, when the gl

d when the little sphe

the rack, and went to squat in the group where he commented to his friends on his own or

s name was called. A stir went throug

Have you had any hoops

his coat; and now wore a brown cardigan jacket. He took his place with

y," s

ed the trapper

cried Mr

ee if a misfire had occurred; but when the ball reac

ur to the stranger. "He shoots just like that, always. Never in a h

core. From his level with the tops of the brown grasses of late summer he enjoyed the wandering puffs of hot air, the drift of pungent aromatic powder smoke, the rapid succes

. One class, among whom were Newmark and Kincaid, continued to break their targets with unvarying accuracy. Young Wellman by rights belonged with these; but he had undershot a strong incomer; and the miss

nd. The referee had actually started to call "no bird"; but Mr. Kincaid elected to try for it; missed; and had to abide by his decision.

scattered out into the grass to help the trapper to look for unbroken balls. Ordinarily Bobby loved to do this; but to-day he sidled up to where his friend was

ot beat," he ventur

removed his pipe from his mouth,

e said kindly,

isted Bobby, "and Ne

ed Bobby's chin in his gnarled brown hand until the little boy's eyes looked straight into his own. Bobby noticed t

is, all your life, no matter what happens to you; a ma

pau

eated, he is not beaten, provided he has done t

ittle boy saw the gray twinkle flickering back to the

said, and withdrew his

he rifle, do you?" asked Mr.

r," repl

hy

d of mine," replied Bob

reason in the world!" cr

the air together. At this game many good scores fell into disintegration, for it required great quickness of manipulation to catch both before one sh

a trifle regretfully. "He's too deliberate for this business

" snorted th

anger was treated to a surprise. The first ball was literally snuffed into nothingness before it had risen five feet above th

or. "He surely can't do

d the other gri

waves of hope for a miss after each of Mr. Newmark's targets, but without avail. Only one pair apiece remained to be shot at; and in order that Mr. Kincaid should win the match, it would be necessary that New

. Newmark's dry

. The referee, imperturbable, stepped forward to examine the shell. He fou

bi

mark re

he calle

he scored his firs

ff," exclaimed the s

powder smoke and whirled it backward, completely enveloping the shooter. The obscuration was momentary, but com

!" announce

turned white. He resented the intervention of a half-dozen other contestants before Mr. Kincaid

stood up, his breath coming and going rapidly, his sight a little blurred. But Mr. Kincaid went through his motions of

were still to shoot, but

Newmark dryly as his riv

d Kincaid, "but it was she

th his old yellow cart, and his driver hunched comfortably over the reins.

imitation of his companion's att

won!" he repeate

ve, the short pipe shifted to the corner of his mouth. Fi

e said, "-until the

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