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Marry! shall I shoot the amorous feline who nightly iterates his love songs on my roof, and yet withhold my trigger finger from yonder pranksome gallant? Go to! Here is an orange left of last week's repast. Decay hath overtaken it, it possesseth neither savor nor cleanliness. Ha! cleverly thrown! A hit a palpable hit!
Several attempts at escape and assassination have been made by prisoners. They are marched between a double line of Cavalry, each of the latter holding a revolver in his hand, with his finger on the trigger. Women found throwing petroleum into houses have been shot on the spot. Since Monday there has been a very large number of summary executions in the streets of Paris.
I pray them to consider that horses do not die of old age, but that they are killed because they become crippled, and that he who cripples them is guilty of their death, not he who pulls the trigger. The practice is as unhorsemanlike as it is inhuman. It is true that money will replace the poor slaves as you use them up, and if occasion requires it they must, alas! be used up.
It sounded matter-of-fact, quite unexcited. "Three possibles anyway," the driver said with equal casualness. He didn't turn his head. "Make it two.... One very definite possible now, I'd say!" "Better feed it to her then." The driver didn't reply, but the car's renewed surge of power pushed Trigger down hard on the seat.
One now approached the door, and came forth, dragging the girl, whom he held by the hair, after him. What hindered me from shooting at his first appearance, I know not. This had been my previous resolution. My hand touched the trigger, and, as he moved, the piece was levelled at his right ear.
"I'll bring you down!" shouted the captain, furiously, as he deliberately pointed the pistol at the cabin boy, and prepared to pull the trigger. There was a cry of horror on the part of the passengers as they saw the insane act of the captain, and realized the peril of poor Jack. But, in spite of all, the boy would probably have fallen a victim to the drunken fury of Captain Hill.
It was the metallic click-click of the old-fashioned lock of Sandy's rifle that awakened her to a sense of peril. Instantly she was thrilled by the nearness of it. Kazan heard the sound and stopped drinking to face it. In that moment Sandy pressed the trigger.
Sometimes they get mighty full of fight, ma'am when it's pretty hot." "How long will it take you to teach me to shoot?" she asked. "That depends, ma'am. I reckon I could show you how to pull the trigger in a jiffy. That would be a certain kind of shootin'. But as for showin' you how to hit somethin' you shoot at, why, that's a little different.
Ahead of him, a hatch was partially open and he could see light streaking through the opening. He gripped his rifle tightly, finger on the trigger, and moved forward. At the hatch he paused and looked into the next compartment. From the opposite side, he saw another hatch partially open and the outline of Roger's head and shoulders.
This coordination consists in putting absolutely all of one's will power into an effort to hold the rifle steadily, especially in getting it to steady down when the aim is perfected; in getting the trigger squeezed off easily at the instant the rifle is steadiest and the aim perfected; in calling the shot at this instant; and, if the shot does not hit near the point called, then in adjusting the sights the correct amount so that the rifle will be sighted to hit where you aim.
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