Then he raised his revolver slowly, and seeming scarcely to take aim,
fired.

And a yell went up from the _Queen Mary's_ crew.

"Bull's eye! Bull's eye!" they cried, and danced and capered about the
deck.

Frank had won. He had hit the bull's eye squarely.

The men rushed up and danced about him.

"Good work!" they cried. "Five points for us. Nine to seven now. We'll
win this yet!"

Simpson approached Frank and extended a hand.

"Good shooting, son," he exclaimed.

Simpson was a man well along in years, and he put this touch of
familiarity to his words to make Frank realize that they were sincere.
"I used to be something of a shot myself," he said. "But I guess you
are better than I ever was."

Frank took Simpson's hand.

"You would probably beat me next time," he said.

Simpson shook his head.