Johnny, who
could not restrain his enthusiasm pounded him on the back and cried: "Yu
old son-of-a-gun!"

The announcer again came forward and gave out the competitors for the
next contest, steer-roping and tying. Lanky Smith arose and, coiling his
rope carefully, disappeared into the crowd. The fun was not so great in
this, but when he returned to his outfit with the phenomenal time of six
minutes and eight seconds for his string of ten steers, with twenty-two
seconds for one of them, they gave him vociferous greeting. Three of his
steers had gotten up after he had leaped from his saddle to tie them,
but his horse had taken care of that. His nearest rival was one minute
over him and Lanky retained the championship.

Red Connors shot with such accuracy in the rifle contest as to run his
points twenty per cent higher than Waffles, of the O-Bar-O, and won the
new rifle.

The main interest centered in the revolver contest, for it was known
that the present champion was to defend his title against an enemy and
fears were expressed in the crowd that there would be an "accident."
Buck Peters and Red stood just behind the firing line with their hands
on hips, and Tex, seeing the precautions, smiled grimly as he advanced
to the line.

Six bottles, with their necks an inch above a board, stood twenty paces
from him, and he broke them all in as many shots, taking twelve seconds
in which to do it. Hopalong followed him and tied the score. Three tin
balls rolling erratically in a blanket supported by two men were
sent flying into the air in four shots, Tex taking six seconds. His
competitor sent them from the blanket in three shots and in the same
time. In slow shooting from sights Tex passed his rival in points and
stood to win. There was but one more event to be contested and in it
Hopalong found his joy.

Shooting from the hip when the draw is timed is not the sport of even
good shots, and when Tex made sixty points out of a possible hundred, he
felt that he had shot well. When Hopalong went to the line his
friends knew that they would now see shooting such as would be almost
unbelievable, that the best draw-and-shoot marksman in their State was
the man who limped slightly as he advanced and who chewed reflectively
on his fifty-cent cigar. He wore two guns and he stepped with confidence
before the marshal of the town, who was also judge of the contest.

The iron ball which lay on the ground was small enough for the use of