he chipped
a piece of bark from the tree, which brought a yell from the boys.

"The trouble with you lads is that you grip your guns too tightly.
Take a light hold on the butt of your revolver. Toy with it. It's
the fellow with the feather-weight touch that does the best work with
the revolver. He is the man to look out for."

"That's the way I always shoot," declared Chunky pompously. "If
there's one shot that I can make better than another it's that one
you fellows have been trying. Why, I could pink that target with
my eyes shut."

"Try it. See what you can do. Perhaps you may beat us all, who
knows?" grinned McKay.

"I don't say that I can beat _you_, but I can shoot as well as these
amateurs who have been trying it. I can---"

"Look here, are you going to make that shot, Chunky?" demanded Rector.

"Yes. Got any objections?" asked Chunky turning to Rector with great
deliberation.

"Not the least, if you'd kindly hold your fire till I can get behind
a rock or a thick tree."

"Yes, that's the place for you, I reckon. All ready, Mr. McKay?"

"It's up to you," smiled the Ranger. "Does it make any particular
difference to you which way I whirl?" asked the fat boy.

"Not in the least. You may stand on your head and whirl if it will
suit you better."

"For goodness' sake, do something," begged Tad. "You've taken enough
time already to shoot the tree clean off the map."

"Who's doing this shooting, you or I?" asked Chunky.

Tad sat down helplessly. Stacy was not to be hurried. The more one
urged him, the slower did he become.

"Look out, I'm going to shoot now. Everybody lie low!"

Stacy spun himself around like a top. He had whirled three times
when the Ranger shouted to him.

"Shoot before you get so dizzy you can't see!"

Bang!

"Stop it---"

Bang!

"Stop it, you idiot!"

McKay struck the fat boy's revolver just in time to prevent getting a
bullet through his own body. Over yonder the professor lay flat on
the ground with a frightened look on his face, shouting at the top of
his voice.

"Hold him! Hold him! He'll have us all riddled!"

"Wha---what's the matter?" demanded Stacy looking around innocently.

"Matter? See what you have done."

"Di---did I wing the professor?" questioned the fat boy innocently.

"Did you wing him!" jeered Tad Butler.

"Come here, young man. But leave that pistol behind you," commanded
Professor Zepplin. "I think we will equip you with