Up came the gun of Pop Giersberg, exploded, and the bullet clanged on the iron; the white ball floated idly on across the wall and disappeared on the other side.
"Gimme another chance!" pleaded Pop, with a quaver in his voice.

"That was just a try to get my eye in shape." "Sure," chuckled the deputy.

"Everybody gets three tries.

It ain't hardly nacheral to hit that ball the first crack.

Leastways, nobody ain't done it yet.