But I'm here now, and I reckon my fingers would never get done itching if I couldn't get to pull a trigger.

I used to shoot some on the ranch, you know, and I hope I haven't lost anything whatever of the knack.

If I should beat your score now ?" "You're welcome to." "Of course I'm more used to a revolver and rifle than to a shotgun, but I allow I know a kink or two about trap shooting, just the same." The rattle and click of guns being put together, the snapping of locks, and the chatter, made pleasant music for gun lovers, as Frank returned to his friends.
"You didn't let him have your gun ?" growled Hodge.
"Yes; I will shoot with yours." "You're welcome to, of course; but I shouldn't have done it." "Here goes to kill the first bird!" cried Danny, ambling out with a repeating shotgun in his hands.
"If you don't hit it first time, you can just sheep on kooting--I mean keep on shooting!" jollied Rattleton.
"I wish there was a bee round here to sting him!" sighed Bink, as Danny faced the trap.

"I'm so sore from laughing that I know I can't hit anything." "You couldn't hit anything, anyway!" said Bruce, putting some shells into his gun.
"I can hit you!" Bink growled, lunging at him.
"I meant anything small!" said Bruce, brushing aside Bink's blow as if it had been a fly.

"Shoo! Don't bother me, or I may get one of these shells stuck." A trap was sprung, and Danny blazed away.
"Missed!" said Dismal.
"And Danny is our crack shot!" moaned Bink.