Panchito fired all six shots muy rápidamente. He was trying to write his initials in bullet holes on the can.
The slugs perforated the tin with a series of satisfying pings, and when it was over, the can, looking like a piece of Swiss cheese and dripping beans from every hole, still sat perfectly on CL's head.
Proudly blowing the smoke from his gun barrel, the rooster smiled at the boy. "I knew you were the very brave fellow. You did no move a muscle. Bravo, mi amigo, bravo."
"Practice, mi amigo! When I was on the ranchero, I practice every chance I get."
"But that is nothing! I will show you a better trick than this!"
Panchito raced into his hotel, returning a moment later with the mirror torn off the medicine cabinet. He placed a new can of beans on Chicken Little's large head, turned his back and, using the mirror to aim, prepared to shoot the can once again.