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There is also a bag of heavy shot, and there is a long duck gun fastened to the beam; but all these things are natural enough in a boat like this. No doubt they fire a charge or two of shot into a passing flight of wildfowl when they get the chance."
There was a light rapping of the gavel and the state's representative went evenly on: "The trial of this defendant would only entail a fruitless cost upon the state. I hold here, duly attested, the confession of Sally Turk, sister of the accused and widow of the deceased, that it was she and not Kenneth Thornton who shot John Turk to death.
They'd tell me down here that I'll never see Him. Zut! I'll take that chance not such a long shot either.
Doc Madison shot a covert glance at the three behind him Thornton, and Holmes, and Mrs. Holmes. Holmes, with downcast eyes, was shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot; Mrs. Holmes, her woman's instinct touched, was watching the scene with face aglow, her eyes moist anew; Thornton was staring fascinated at Helena, a sort of breathless, wondering admiration in his eyes.
He sent Bee with some cavalry to follow, and this Bee did, yet not rashly, for in twenty miles he came not once near enough to Mower's rear-guard to exchange a shot.
Joe's words were at variance with his looks. "Say, pard, can you shoot a rifle?" queried Joe. "Yes. I'm a fair shot at targets." The Mormon nodded his head as if pleased. "That's good. These outlaws are all poor shots with a rifle. So 'm I. But I can handle a six-shooter. I reckon we'll make Shadd sweat if he pushes us."
"Mother," he said, "I want to be perfectly honest about this thing; I told you there is nothing that I could do against this man; as a matter of fact, there is one thing that I could possibly do. It's a long shot, with the odds all against me, and, if I should fail, he would do me up, that's sure; still, I must admit that I see a chance, one small chance of landing him.
He isn't the only Australian by a long shot who upholds Australia by fist and boast and astounding gallantry, yet stays away from home. You couldn't fix Jeremy with concrete; he'd find some means of bursting any mould. He had been too long lost in the heart of Arabia for anything except the thought of Sydney Bluffs and the homesteads that lie beyond to tempt him for the first few days.
When a pistol cracked, far down the road, and a faint yell came shrilling through the quiet sunshine, they craned necks till their muscles ached. Like a summer sand-storm they came, and behind them clattered their friends, the dust concealing horse and rider alike. Whooping encouraging words at random, they waited till a black nose shot out from the rushing cloud. That was Flopper.
Upon the wall hung the black painted target, near to the centre of which he had once shot. His skates lay upon the chest of drawers, near to the nodding plaster figure. The long journey, and the overpowering surprise which awaited him on his return, had strongly affected him: he opened the window; a large white sand-hill rose like a wall straight up before it, and deprived him of all view.
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