"They'll feel that you don't respect their flag of truce." "I didn't feel a heap of respect for the fellow that held up the white flag," Hazelton admitted, with another grin.

"It was Bad Pete, and I wanted to see what his nerve was like when someone else was doing the shooting and he was the target." "Peter simply flopped and dropped his gun, Tom declared.
"Say," muttered Harry, his face showing real concern, "I hope I didn't hit him." "Did you aim at him ?" demanded Tom.
"I did not." "Then there _is_ some chance that Peter was hit," Tom confessed.
"Harry, when you're shooting at a friend, and in a purely hospitable way, always aim straight for him.

Then the poor fellow will have a good chance to get off with a whole skin!" "Cut out that line of talk," ordered Hazelton, his face growing red.

"Back in the old home days, Tom, you've seen me do some great shooting." "With the putty-blower---yes," Tom admitted, with a chuckle.
"Say, wasn't Old Dut Jones, of the Central Grammar, rough on boys who used putty-blowers in the schoolroom ?" "If Pete was hit, it wasn't my shot that did it," muttered Harry, growing redder still.

"I aimed for the centre of that white rag.
If we ever come across the rag we'll find my bullet hole through it.