ailway waiting-room, the whole party
proceeded to one of the many good hotels Paris possesses.

* * * *

The third evening after their arrival, young Jack and Harry Girdwood
strolled out together.

They no doubt would have enjoyed the company of the two girls, but
little Emily and Paquita had been roving about the town all day long,
and were too tired to go out that evening.

"What is this place, Jack?" asked Harry, as they both paused in front
of a narrow, but brilliantly-lighted doorway.

"A shooting gallery, I fancy."

"Shall we go in?"

"Certainly; but I don't fancy the French are very great 'shootists,' as
the Yankees say."

"All the more fun, perhaps."

And without more talk, the youngsters walked in.

It was a long room, divided by slight partitions into four different
galleries, and at the end of each of these was a target in the shape of
a doll.

After watching others for a time, Harry took half a dozen shots at one
of the figures, which he struck four times.

Young Jack then tried, and was equally successful.

"Good shooting, young gentlemen," said one of the spectators, an
Englishman; "but if you want to see real pistol practice, look at this
Frenchman."

And he pointed to a tall, dark man who was just preparing to fire.

The target he had before him was not a little doll like the others, but
a full-sized lay figure dressed in black, closely buttoned up, and
holding in its hand an empty pistol pointed towards the live shooter.

"He is a noted duellist," said the Englishman, "and has killed more
than one adversary."

Jack and Harry looked at him with considerable curiosity, with which
was mixed a tinge of loathing.

The duellist had brought his own pistols, one of which he carefully
loaded, and having placed himself in position, rapidly aimed and fired.

Instantly the lay figure showed a spot of white on its black coat,
which, after all, was only made of a kind of paste or varnish, which
chipped off when struck by the bullet.

"Straight to the heart," said the Englishman.

"That's good shooting," exclaimed Harry Girdwood.

The Frenchman fired again, making an equally good shot.

When he had fired ten, young Jack for the first time broke silence.

"I don't believe he could do that in the field with a live adversary
and a loaded pistol opposite him."

The Frenchman again pulled the trigger, but the eleventh shot flew wide
of the mark.