“I’m as cool as the hot sun will allow me to be, but I wish they would let me take off my jacket. I’ll ask them.” “No, no, no,” protested Dan. “Flink take your place.” The dark-faced Pennsylvanian, a confident smile on his face, took his place toeing the mark. He took careful aim, pulled the trigger and lowered his weapon to his waist line. “Bull’s-eye,” wig-wagged the signal man at the butts. “Davis!” called the officer in charge. Dan stepped to the mark, stood for a moment gazing off at the range. Then, raising his gun, he took aim and fired without loss of time. The onlookers thought he had missed, for his shot was apparently carelessly executed. “Bull’s-eye,” came back the wig-wag signal. A number of officers of the post had gathered to see the shooting, and a murmur of comment ran over the little throng. “Hickey!” “To the bat!” muttered Sam under his breath, taking his place. Hickey took long and careful aim, lowered his gun for a free look at the target then raised the weapon again. At last he fired. He too, made a bull’s-eye. One round had been fired and without a single miss on the part of any one of the three contestants. This was continued for three more rounds with no change in the result. Excitement ran high. Nearly every apprentice on the grounds was hoping that either the red-haired boy or his companion might win. Flink had few admirers, though all gave him full credit for what he had accomplished so far in the contest. This time Dan was called to the mark first, the officer in charge varying the routine for some reason of his own. Dan scored a bull’s-eye. Flink came next. This time he shot with less caution than before, and missed. Sam, however, made a bull’s-eye. “Tied, sir. Shall they shoot it off?” asked the quartermaster, saluting the commandant of the station. “Shoot it off,” was the reply. “Aye, aye, sir. Leaders take their places for another round.” Flink was called to the mark first. He was plainly nervous. Perhaps his nervousness was not lessened by the glimpse he caught of Sam Hickey’s face. Sam was grinning broadly, but he could not be accused of attempting to interfere with Flink, because he was not looking at him. Sam was looking at Dan at that particular moment. Flink took his sight, then pulled the trigger with a nervous finger. “Miss,” came the wig-wag signal. Dan took his place and fired. He made a bull’s-eye. Sam came next. As before he took a great deal of time in preparation. “He’s posing,” muttered Dan. “He might better attend to his business.” However, Sam Hickey knew what he was about. If he missed, he would have the satisfaction of knowing that it was not through carelessness. At last he seemed satisfied as to his position, arriving at which decision, he lost no time in bringing the rifle to his shoulder and pulling the trigger. “Bull’s-eye!”