"Then you can go with us?" questioned Charley Dodge, quickly.
"I think so---mother said she would tell me for certain to-morrow."
The small youth took the rifle handed to him and aiming carefully,
pulled the trigger.
"The outer ring," said Shep Reed. "That's not so bad but what
it might be worse, Giant."
"Oh, it might be worse!" answered the small youth, coolly. "I
might fire out of the window and kill somebody on the back street,
or hit a duck in Rackson's pond. Here goes again."
The second shot was a little better, and the third made the bell ring,
much to the small youth's delight.
"Hullo, you fellows!" came from the doorway, a lively boy of fourteen
came in, curly hair dying and a cap set far back on his head.
"Been looking for you all over town for about sixteen hours.
Been shooting, eh? I'll bet a can of buttermilk against a shoestring
that you all made outer rings."
"Hullo, Whopper!" called the others. "Come in and try your luck."
"Can't---I'm dead broke this morning," answered Frank Dawson.
"I've got to wait a year or two till my next allowance comes in.
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