came
out again, the weapon dangling from her hand.

"Shucks!" he said, when he saw the pistol, comparing its huge bulk to the
size of the hand holding it, "you'll never be able to hold it, when it
goes off. You ought to have a smaller one."

"Uncle Jep says this ought to stop anything it hits," she declared. "That
is just what I want it to do. If I shoot anything once, I don't want to
have to shoot again."

"I reckon you're right bloodthirsty, ma'am. But I expect it's so big for
you that you won't be able to hit anything."

"I'll show you," she said, confidently. "Where shall we go to shoot? We
shall have to have a target, I suppose?"

"Not a movin' one," he said gleefully. "An' I ain't aimin' to hold it for
you!"

"Wait until you are asked," she retorted, defiantly. "Perhaps I may be a
better shot than you think!"

"I hope so, ma'am."

She looked resentfully at him, but followed him as he went out near the
pasture fence, taking with him a soap box that he found near a shed, and
standing it up behind a post, first making sure there were no cattle
within range in the direction that the bullets would take. Then he
stepped off twenty paces, and when she joined him he took the pistol from
her hands and loaded it from the box. He watched her narrowly as she took
it, and she saw the concern in his eyes.

"Oh, I have used a revolver before," she told him, "not so large a one as
this, of course. But I know better than to point it at myself."

"I see you do, ma'am." His hand went out quickly and closed over hers,
for she had been directing the muzzle of the weapon fairly at his chest.
"You ought never point it at anybody that you don't want to shoot," he
remonstrated gently.

He showed her how to hold the weapon, told her to stand sideways to the
target, with her right arm extended and rigid, level with the shoulder.

He took some time at this; three times after she extended her arm he
seemed to find it necessary to take hold of the arm to rearrange its
position, lingering long at this work, and squeezing the pistol hand a
little too tightly, she thought.

"Don't go to pullin' the trigger too fast or too hard," he warned; "a
little time for the first shot will save you shootin' again, mebbe--until
you get used to it. She'll kick some, but you'll get onto that pretty
quick."

She pulled the trigger, and the muzzle of the pistol flew upward.

"I reckon that target feels pretty safe, ma'am," he said dryly. "But t