Look at the target!" Bill looked at the target; his jaw dropped again; his eyes protruded.
There were three bullet holes, almost touching each other, grouped round the nail in the center of Pete's tin plate.
"Well, I'm just damned!" he said.

"I'll swear he didn't shoot but once." "That's fannin' the hammer, Shorty," drawled Pete.

"Ever hear of that?
Well, now you've seen it.

When you practice it, hold your elbow tight against your ribs to steady your gun while you slap the hammer back.

For you, Mr.Jim--I see you've landed your six shots; but some of 'em are mighty close to the edge of your little old plate.