Every now and then, when he thought he had got it ship-shape, Tommy would put in a fresh cartridge, hold the carbine tightly to his shoulder, shut his eyes, and fire it into space.

The rusty old weapon kicked frightfully, after each discharge the ejector jammed, and Tommy ruefully poked the exploded cartridge out with a rod and poured on more oil.
"Blast the carbine!" said Tommy.

"It kicks upwards like; it's kicking my nose all skewwhiff." "Don't put it to your shoulder, you fool," said one of the shooters; "it'll kick your head off.

Hold it out in one hand." "Then it'll kick my arm off," said Tommy.
"No, it won't; you won t feel it at all," said the shooter.

"Your arm will give to the recoil.