LITMIR.BIZ

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treat it right it won't treat you right. That's all I know about it. Your gun ain't very clean, stranger, an' a gun that ain't kept clean gets off feet."

      Silent glanced at his weapons, cursed softly, and restored them to the holsters.

      "Lee," he muttered to Haines, who stood next to him, "what do you think he meant by that? D' you figger he's got somethin' up his sleeve, an' that's why he acts so like a damned woman?"

      "I don't know," said Haines gravely, "he looks to me sort of queer —sort of different—damned different, chief!"

      By this time Dan had secured a second gun which suited him. He whirled both guns, tried their actions alternately, and then announced that he was ready. In the dead silence, one of the men paced off the twenty yards.

      Dan, with his back turned, stood at the mark, shifting his revolvers easily in his hands, and smiling down at them as if they could understand his caress.

      "How you feelin', Dan?" asked Morgan anxiously.

      "Everything fine," he answered.

      "Are you gettin' weak?"

      "No, I'm all right."

      "Steady up, partner."

      "Steady up? Look at my hand!"

      Dan extended his arm. There was not a quiver in it.

      "All right, Dan. When you're shootin', remember that I got pretty close to everything I own staked on you. There's the stranger gettin' his four dollars ready."

      Silent took his place with the four dollars in his hand.

      "Are you ready?" he called.

      "Let her go!" said Dan, apparently without the least excitement.

      Jim Silent threw the coins, and he threw them so as to increase his chances as much as possible. A little snap of his hand gave them a rapid rotary motion so that each one was merely a speck of winking light. He flung them high, for it was probable that Whistling Dan would wait to shoot until they were on the way down. The higher he threw them the more rapidly they would be travelling when they crossed the level of the markman's eye.

      As a shout proclaimed the throwing of the coins, Dan whirled, and it seemed to the bystanders that a revolver exploded before he was fully turned; but one of the coins never rose to the height of the throw. There was a light "cling!" and it spun a dozen yards away. Two more shots blended almost together; two more dollars darted away in twinkling streaks of light. One coin still fell, but when it was a few inches from the earth a six-shooter barked again and the fourth dollar glanced sidewise into the dust. It takes long to describe the feat. Actually, the four shots consumed less than a second of time.

      "That last dollar," said Dan, and his soft voice was the first sound out of the silence, "wasn't good. It didn't ring true. Counterfeit?"

      It seemed that no one heard his words. The men were making a wild scramble for the dollars. They dived into the dust for them, rising white of face and clothes to fight and struggle over their prizes. Those dollars with the chips and neat round holes in them would confirm the truth of a story that the most credulous might be tempted to laugh or scorn. A cowpuncher offered ten dollars for one of the relics—but none would part with a prize.

      The moment the shooting was over Dan stepped quietly back and restored the guns to the owners. The first man seized his weapon carelessly. He was in the midst of his rush after one of the chipped coins. The other cowpuncher received his weapon almost with reverence.

      "I'm thankin' you for the loan," said Dan, "an here's hopin' you always have luck with the gun."

      "Luck?" said the other. "I sure will have luck with it. I'm goin' to oil her up and put her in a glass case back home, an' when I get grandchildren I'm goin' to point out that gun to 'em and tell 'em what men used to do in the old days. Let's go in an' surround some red-eye at my expense."

      "No thanks," answered Dan, "I ain't drinkin'."

      He stepped back to the edge of the circle and folded his arms. It was as if he had walked out of the picture. He suddenly seemed to be aloof from them all.

      Out of the quiet burst a torrent of curses, exclamations, and shouts. Chance drew Jim Silent and his three followers together.

      "My God!" whispered Lee Haines, with a sort of horror in his voice, "it wasn't human! Did you see? Did you see?"

      "Am I blind?" asked Hal Purvis, "an' think of me walkin' up an' bracin' that killer like he was a two-year-old kid! I figger that's the nearest I ever come to a undeserved grave, an' I've had some close calls! 'That last dollar wasn't good! It didn't ring true,' says he when he finished. I never seen such nerve!"

      "You're wrong as hell," said Silent, "a woman can shoot at a target, but it takes a cold nerve to shoot at a man—an' this feller is yellow all through!"

      "Is he?" growled Bill Kilduff, "well, I'd hate to take him by surprise, so's he'd forget himself. He gets as much action out of a common six-gun as if it was a gatling. He was right about that last dollar, too. It was pure— lead!"

      "All right, Haines," said Silent. "You c'n start now any time, an' the rest of us'll follow on the way I said. I'm leavin' last. I got a little job to finish up with the kid."

      But Haines was staring fixedly down the road.

      "I'm not leaving yet," said Haines. "Look!"

      He turned to one of the cowpunchers.

      "Who's the girl riding up the road, pardner?"

      "That calico? She's Kate Cumberland—old Joe's gal."

      "I like the name," said Haines. "She sits the saddle like a man!"

      Her pony darted off from some imaginary object in the middle of the road, and she swayed gracefully, following the sudden motion. Her mount came to the sudden halt of the cattle pony and she slipped to the ground before Morgan could run out to help. Even Lee Haines, who was far quicker, could not reach her in time.

      "Sorry I'm late," said Haines. "Shall I tie your horse?"

      The fast ride had blown colour to her face and good spirits into her eyes. She smiled up to him, and as she shook her head in refusal her eyes lingered a pardonable moment on his handsome face, with the stray lock of tawny hair fallen low across his forehead. She was used to frank admiration, but this unembarrassed courtesy was a new world to her. She was still smiling when she turned to Morgan.

      "You told my father the boys wouldn't wear guns today."

      He was somewhat confused.

      "They seem to be wearin' them," he said weakly, and his eyes wandered about the armed circle, pausing on the ominous forms of Hal Purvis, Bill Kilduff, and especially Jim Silent, a head taller than the rest. He stood somewhat in the background, but the slight sneer with which he watched Whistling Dan dominated the entire picture.

      "As a matter of fact," went on Morgan, "it would be a ten man job to take the guns away from this crew. You can see for yourself."

      She glanced about the throng and started. She had seen Dan.

      "How did he come here?"

      "Oh, Dan?" said Morgan, "he's all right. He just pulled one of the prettiest shootin' stunts I ever seen."

      "But he promised my father—" began Kate, and then stopped, flushing.

      If her father was right in diagnosing Dan's character, this was the most critical day in his life, for there he stood surrounded by armed men. If there were anything wild in his nature it would be brought out that day. She was almost glad the time of trial had come.

      She said: "How about the guns, Mr. Morgan?"

      "If you want them collected and put away for a while," offered Lee Haines, "I'll do what I can to help you!"

      Her smile of thanks set his blood tingling. His glance lingered a little too long, a little too gladly, and she coloured slightly.

      "Miss

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