"You take off safety."
"Get Roberts," Mr. Pike called to me. "He's the best shot for'ard.
If you can't get 'm, jolt the fear of God into him anyway."
It was the first time I had a human target, and let me say, here and
now, that I am convinced I am immune to buck fever. There he was
before me, less than a hundred feet distant, in the gangway between
the door to Davis' room and the starboard-rail, manoeuvring for
another shot at Mr. Pike.
I must have missed Steve Roberts that first time, but I came so near
him that he jumped. The next instant he had located me and turned
his revolver on me. But he had no chance. My little automatic was
discharging as fast as I could tickle the trigger with my fore-
finger. The cowboy's first shot went wild of me, because my bullet
arrived ere he got his swift aim. He swayed and stumbled backward,
but the bullets--ten of them--poured from the muzzle of my Winchester
like water from a garden hose. It was a stream of lead I played upon
him. I shall never know how many times I hit him, but I am confident
that after he had begun his long staggering fall at least three
additional bullets entered him ere he impacted on the deck.
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