d to be venturesome just now."

Lisle thought that she had a request to make. There was something about
him that inspired confidence, and the girl had made a friend of him.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

She made a sign of impatience; he was too direct. "Oh," she pouted,
"aren't you taking a good deal for granted? Still, you bushmen can shoot,
can't you?"

"As a rule," Lisle answered. "I almost think I see."

"Then," she retorted, "you shouldn't have said so; you should merely have
smiled and acted."

"I'm from the wilds; you mustn't expect too much. Well, if you'll excuse
me."

She flashed a grateful glance at him, and he sauntered toward the group
of men, among whom Gladwyne stood. There was a sharp crack as he
approached them, a thin streak of smoke drifted across the figure lying
on the mat, and a man beside it lowered the glasses he held.

"High to the left," he announced. "You're not in good form, Jim. Hadn't
you better give up?"

Lisle studied the speaker, whom he had met once or twice already. He was
approaching middle-age and was inclined to corpulence, but there was
something in his pose that suggested a military training. His face was
fleshy, but the features were bold and he was coarsely handsome. As a
rule, he affected an easy good-humor, but Lisle had felt that there was
something about him which he could best describe as predatory. He
occasionally spoke of business ties, so he had an occupation, but he had
not in Lisle's hearing mentioned what it was.

Crestwick's face was hot as he answered his remark.

"Not at all, Batley. The trouble is that I'm used to the Roberts target,
and the spots on the card are puzzling after the rings. I'll get into it
presently."

"Oh, well," acquiesced the other. "As you didn't fix a time limit, we'll
go on again, though it's getting tame and I want some tea."

"I'll increase the interest again, if you like," the lad replied.

Lisle joined the group.

"What's it all about?" he asked.

"Batley's a pretty good rifle shot, but if he won't mind my saying so
he's a little opinionated," Gladwyne explained. "Crestwick questioned an
idea of his, and the end of it was that Batley offered to prove his
point--that a stiff pull-off is as good as a light one in practised
hands--by backing himself to beat the field. Crestwick took him up, and
since the rest of us were obviously out of it, the thing has resolved
itself into a match between the two. Crestwick i