Cassidy, Hopalong (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Western stories
"This really is no test," he responded, filling another can and stepping
back as he shifted the weapon to the right hand. "There is not the
tenseness which a great stake causes; but, on the other hand, there is
not the high-tension signals to the muscles. Watch closely," and the
jarring crashes sounded like a loud ripping. One hole through the
picture of a perfect tomato, two just above it, two lower down, and the
sixth on the upper edge of the can gave mute testimony that he shot
well.
She fairly squealed with delight and clapped her hands in spontaneous
enthusiasm. "Wonderful! Wonderful! Oh, if I ever could shoot like
that! I don’t believe those friends can even equal it, and I don’t care
how good they are." Her face beamed. "But that must have taken a great
deal of practice."
"Years of it," he replied, "coupled to a natural aptitude. While the
accuracy is good enough, that is of secondary consideration. Had only
one bullet struck the target, or grazed it, the other five would not
have been necessary. The speed of the draw is the great thing. Any man
used to shooting a revolver can hit that mark once in six--but he is far
from a real gunman if he can’t beat ninety-nine men out of a hundred in
firing the first shot. That is what counts with a gun-fighter. His
target is almost any place between the belt and the shoulders. If he
strikes there and does not kill his man he will have time for a second
shot if it is needed. My left hand is as deadly as my right against a
living target so far as accuracy is concerned; but pit it against my
right and it would be hopelessly lost, dead before it could get the gun
out of the holster. And Hopalong Cassidy twice gave me lessons in the
fine art of drawing--once in an exhibition and the second time in what
would have been mortal combat if he had not allowed his heart to guide
his head. I did not in the least merit his mercy. I had lived a wild,
careless life, Miss Saunders; but it changed from that day."
"Jerry told me why you made him give up wearing his revolver," she said,
thoughtfully. "I did not fully appreciate his words; but the graphic
exposition lacks nothing to be convincing. Was your interest in his
welfare another of your generalities?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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