the juniper trunk. From this the Texan
produced a horseshoe hammer and the lids from two ten-pound lard pails.
He strode over to where, ten yards away, two young cedars grew side by
side, and nailed a lid to each tree, shoulder-high.

"There!" he challenged his opponent. "We ain't either of us going to miss
such a mark as that--it's like putting your finger on it. But suppose the
tree was shooting back? Time is what counts then. Now, how does this
strike you? You take the lid on the left and I'll take the other. When
the umpire says Go! we'll begin foggin'--and the man that scores six
hits quickest gets the money. That's fair, isn't it, Johnson?"

This was a slip--Johnson had not given his name--a slip unnoticed by
either of the ZK men, but not by Johnson.

"Fair enough, I should say," he answered.

"Why, Jim, that ain't practical--that ain't!" protested Bill uneasily.
"You was talking about the tree a-shootin' back--but one shot will stop
most men, let alone six. What's the good of shootin' a man all to
pieces?"

"Suppose there was six men?"

"Then they get me, anyway. Wouldn't they, Mr. Umpire?" he appealed to
Peter Johnson, who sat cross-legged and fanned himself with his big
sombrero.

"That don't make any difference," decided the umpire promptly. "To shoot
straight and quickest--that's bein' a good shot. Line up!"

Bill lined up, unwillingly enough; they stuffed their cylinders with
cartridges.

"Don't shoot till I say: One, two, three--go!" admonished Pete. "All set?
One--two--three--go!"

A blending, crackling roar, streaked red and saffron, through black
smoke: the Texan's gun flashed down and up and back, as a man snaps his
fingers against the frost; he tossed his empty gun through the sunlight
to the bed under the juniper tree and spread out his hands. Bill was
still firing--one shot--two!

"Judgment!" shouted the Texan and pointed. Six bullet holes were
scattered across his target, line shots, one above the other; and
poor Bill, disconcerted, had missed his last shot!

"Jim, I guess the stuff is yours," said Bill sheepishly.

The big Texan retrieved his gun from the bed and Pete gave him the
stakes. He folded the bill lovingly and tucked it away; but he flipped
the coin from his thumb, spinning in the sun, caught it as it fell, and
glanced askant at old Pete.

"How long ago did you say it was when you began shootin'?" He voiced the
query with exceeding politeness and inclined his head defere