"If it was a very dense flock, you might get two." Ten rounds had been fired, and two birds were to be thrown now at the same time at unknown angles.
"Ready ?" asked the boy.
"Pull!" commanded Danny, throwing up his gun.
The birds flew, but Danny did not shoot.
"I thought one was going to jump out of the right-hand trap," he grinned, "and it didn't." "Give him another chance," said Dismal.

"He oughtn't to be forgiven for anything, but we'll forgive him." "Spit on your hands!" some one yelled.
Danny put down his gun, very deliberately spat on his hands, then took up his gun again.
"Pull!" he commanded.
Two birds flew--one from the right-hand trap and one from the middle trap.

Bang! bang! Danny fired at both, but the birds sailed on and descended in the grass.
"These shells aren't any good!" he asserted, looking wonderingly into the powder-stained barrels of the gun.

"Or else this gun isn't choked right for trap shooting.

I held on both of those birds." "You mean you aren't choked right for trap shooting," said Bink, as Danny came back.
"I'll choke you!" Danny cried, hurling himself on Stubbs and gripping him by the throat.
"Stop it!" commanded Bruce, as they struggled on the grass.