Argosy, Vol. 117, No. 3 — page 27: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A MAN TO by green water. As it was, it made a far: from-easy mark, slithering, lurching, dip- ping as the Karluk slid down a wave or met a fresh one, the can often blurred against the blobs of foam. More bullets hit the keg than the can, and Carlsen was often called upon as um- pire. But the tin gradually became ragged and blotched where the steel-jacketed mis- siles tore through. Beale and Deming both had five clean, undisputed hits, tying for first prize. Beale offered to shoot it off with six more sheils apiece, and Deming con- sented. “ Can’t be done,” declared Carlsen. “‘ Not right now, anyway. I gave out the last shell there was in the magazine, If there are any more the skipper’s got them stowed away, and I can’t disturb him.” ‘“‘ Derned funny,” said Deming, “ a sealer shy on cartridges! Lucky we ain’t wor- ryin’ about thet sort of a cargo.” “Probably plenty aboard somewhere,” said Carlsen, “ but I don’t know where they are. Sorry to break up the shooting. You boys have got me beaten on rifles and shot- guns,” he went on, producing from his hip pocket a flat, effective-looking automatic pistol of heavy caliber. “ How are you on small arms?” The hunters shook their heads dubiously,. ‘‘ Never use ’em,” said Deming. ‘“ Never could do much with that kind, ennyhow. Give me a revolver, an’ I might make out to hit a whale, if he was close enough, but not with one o’ them.” “Not much difference,” said Carlsen, “ Any of you got revolvers?”’ No one spoke. It was against the un- written laws of a vessel for pistols to be owned forward of the main cabin. Beale finally answered for the rest. ‘““Nary a pistol, sir.” “Then,” said Carlsen, “ I'll give you an exhibition myself. Any bottles left? Beale, will you toss them for me?” There were eight shots in the automatic, and Carlsen smashed seven bottles in mid- air. He missed the last, but retrieved him- self by breaking it as it dipped in the wake. — The hunters shouted their appreciation. “‘ Break all of em?” Lund asked Rainey. “Enny bottles left at all?” 2 ArGosy HIS 337 He walked toward the taffrail, address- ing Carlsen. ‘“ Kin you shoot by sound as well as by sight, doc?”’ he challenged. | ‘“T fancy not,” said Carlsen. ‘Tf I had my eyes I’d snapshoot ye for a hundred bucks,” said Lund. “ As it is, I might target one or two. Rainey, have some one run a line, head-high, an’ fix a bottle on it, will ye? I ain’t got a gun Oo’ my own, doc,” he continued, “ will you lend me yours?” Carlsen filled his clip and Lund turned toward Rainey, who was rig- ging the target. ‘Tl want you to tap it with a stick,” he said. ‘‘ Signal-flag staff ‘Il do fine.” . Rainey got the slender bamboo and stood by. Lund felt for the cord,-passed his fin- gers over the suspended bottle and, wheel- ing, stepped off five paces, hefting the au- tomatic in his palm to judge its balance. “Rather have my own gun,” he mut- tered. “ All right, tetch her up, Rainey.” Rainey tapped the bottle on the neck and it gave out a little tinkle, lost immediately in the crash of splintering glass as the bot- tle, hit fairly in the torn label, broke in half. “How much left?” asked Lund. Tech it up.” Again he fired and again the bullet found the mark, leaving only the neck of the bot- tle still hanging. Lund grinned. “ Thet’s all,” he said. ‘ Jest wanted to show ye what a blind man can do, if he’s put to it.” : There was little applause. Carlsen took his gun in silence and moved forward with the hunters and the onlookers, disappearing below. Rainey took the wheel over from Hansen and ordered him forward again. “Give ’em something to talk about,” chuckled Lund. “ Carlsen wanted to show off his fancy shootin’. Wal, I’ve shown ’em I ain’t entirely wrecked if I ain’t carryin’ lights. An’ I slipped more ’n one over on Carlsen at that.” Rainey did not catch his entire meaning and said nothing. ‘‘ Did you get wise to the play about the shells?” asked Lund. “A smart. trick, though Deming almost tumbled. Carlsen got those dumb fools of hunters to fire away * Half? NnOOLKS AUUG (C@ (C@