15/21 I fired it wonst, an' it kicked me to blazes." "Come, come! That won't do. Fire." Thus constrained, Sweeny brought his piece down to an inclination of forty-five degrees, shut his eyes, pulled trigger, and sent a ball clean over the most distant Apaches. The recoil staggered him, but he recovered himself without going over, and instantly roared out a horse-laugh. |