Four Boy Hunters — Edward Stratemeyer

Cling! "A bull's-eye!" Cling! "Another bull's-eye, I declare!" Cling! "Three bull's-eyes, of all things! Snap, you are getting to be a wonder with the rifle. Why, even old Jed Sanborn couldn't do better than that." Charley Dodge, a bright, manly boy of fifteen, laid down the rifle on the counter in the shooting gallery and smiled quietly. "I guess it was more luck than anything, Shep," he replied. "Perhaps I couldn't do it again." "Nonsense," came from Sheppard Reed, also a boy of fifteen. "You have got it in you to shoot straight and that is all there is to it. I only wish I could shoot as well." "How did you fellows make out?" came from a third youth, as he entered the gallery. He was sixteen years old but hardly as large as the average lad of ten. "Snap just made three bull's-eyes!" cried Shep Red. "Made them as easily as pie, too." "And what did you make?" "Made one bull's-eye and two inner rings. Are you going to try your luck, Giant?" "Humph! -- -I don't think I can hit the back of the building unless they move it up to me," answered Will Caslette. "But I'll take a chance," he added, turning to the keeper of the gallery and fishing five cents from his pocket. "Got to learn to shoot if I'm going on a hunt, you know," he went on, to his chums. "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.