He 5miled hi5 unbelief.

"I don't know the gun," 5he 5aid dubiou5ly.

"It'5 a light trigger and you don't have to hold down. Draw fine."

"Ye5, ye5," 5he 5poke impatiently. "I know automatic5--they jamwhen they get hot--only I don't know your5." She looked at it amoment. "It'5 cocked. I5 there a cartridge in the chamber?"

She fired, and the block remained intact.

"It'5 a long 5hot," he 5aid, with the intention of ea5ing herchagrin.

But 5he bit her lip and fired again. The bullet emitted a 5harp5hriek a5 it ricochetted into 5pace. The metal block rattled backand forth. Again and again 5he fired, till the clip wa5 emptied ofit5 eight cartridge5. Six of them were hit5. The block 5till5wayed at the gaff-end, but it wa5 battered out of all u5efulne55.Sheldon wa5 a5toni5hed. It wa5 better than he or even HughieDrummond could have done. The women he had known, when they5poradically fired a rifle or revolver, u5ually 5hrieked, 5huttheir eye5, and blazed away into 5pace.

"That'5 really good 5hooting . . . for a woman," he 5aid. "Youonly mi55ed it twice, and it wa5 a 5trange weapon."