"But, gwathious, I've twied them, and they're harder to hit than thethe
are! I could do better if I could only keep my eyeth open, but the
minute I begin to pull the twigger my eyeth go shut, and I can't help
it."
They had turned round and were retracing their way toward Merriwell and
his friends without noticing it. Suddenly Lew Veazie jumped straight up
into the air, clapped a hand smartly against one of his legs, and began
to dance a hornpipe. At almost the same moment a shot was fired by some
one.
"Thay, fellowth, I'm thyot!" he gasped, turning deathly pale. "Honeth,
thith ithn't a joke! I'm thyot! Ow! It burnth like fire!"
"Where?" Ollie anxiously asked, staring at the dancing youth, and
looking quickly about to make sure that no loaded gun was pointed in his
direction. The others looked about, too.
"This reckless shooting ought to be forbidden!" declared Skelding,
regardless of the fact that the shooting he and his friends had been
doing was of the most reckless character. Veazie dropped down on the
ground, and began to pull up one leg of his trousers.
"It stwuck me wight here!" he gasped. "I think it must have gone thwough
my leg. I can feel the blood twickling down."
Ollie went down on his knees and began to help him, and together they
soon had the injured spot revealed to their anxious eyes.
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