would-be man-hunter, "I reckon I could afford
that."

He was so serious about it that the crowd murmured its amusement instead
of bursting into loud laughter. If the man was a fool, at least he was
not aggressive in his folly. They gave way and he walked slowly towards
the counter and stepped into the little open space beside the master of
ceremonies. Very obviously he was ill at ease to find himself the center
of so much attention.

"I s'pose you been practicin' up on tin-cans?" suggested the deputy,
leaning on the counter.

"Sometimes I hit things and sometimes I don't," answered the stranger.

"Well," and this was put more crisply as the deputy brought out a large
pad of paper, "jest gimme your name, partner."

"Joe Cumber." He grew still more ill at ease. "I hear that even if you
hit the mark you got to talk to the sheriff himself afterwards?"

"Yep."

The applicant sighed.

"Why d'you ask?"

"I ain't much on words."

"But hell with your gun, eh?" The deputy sheriff grinned again, but when
the other turned his head toward him, his smile went out, suddenly while
the wrinkle of mirth still lay in his cheek. The deputy stroked his chin
and looked thoughtful.

"Get your gun ready," he ordered.

The other slipped his hand down to his gun-butt and moved his weapon to
make sure that it was perfectly loose in the leather.

"Ain't you goin' to take your gun out?" queried the deputy.

"Can I do that?"

"I reckon not," said the deputy, and looked the stranger straight in the
eyes.

His change to deadly earnestness put a hush over the crowd.

Across the target, not tossed easily as it had been for Pop Giersberg,
but literally thrown, darted the line of white, while the gun flipped
out of its holster as if it possessed life of its own and spoke. The
white line ended half way to the farther side of the target, and the
revolver slid again into hiding.

A clamor of amazement broke from the crowd, but the deputy looked
steadily, without enthusiasm, at the stranger.

"Joe Cumber," he said, when the noise fell away a little, "I guess
you'll see the sheriff. Harry, take Joe Cumber up to Pete, will you?"

One of the bystanders jumped at the suggestion and led the other from
the room, with a full half of the crowd following. The deputy remained
behind, thoughtful.

"What's the matter?" asked one of the spectators. "You look like you'd
seen a ghost."

"Gents," answered the deputy, "do any of you recollect see