“John,” said Shoop, turning to the sheepman, “you’re a perpendicular dam’ fool.”

Word went forth that High-Chin Bob, of the Starr, and Bud Shoop were to shoot a match for a thousand dollars a side, and some of the more enthusiastic believed it.  In a few minutes the street was empty of all save the ponies at the hitching-rails.

In a shallow arroyo back of town the excited throng made wagers and talked of wonderful shots made by the principals.  High Chin was known as a quick and sure shot.  Shoop’s reputation was known to fewer of the crowd.  The Starr boys backed their foreman to the last cent.  A judge was suggested, but declined as being of the locality.  Finally the giant sheepman, despite his personal wager, was elected unanimously.  He was known to be a man of absolute fairness, and qualified to judge marksmanship.  He agreed to serve, with the proviso that the Starr boys or any of High Chin’s friends should feel free to question his decisions.  The crowd solidified back of the line, where Shoop and High Chin stood waiting for the test.

The marksmen faced two bottles on a rock some thirty paces away.  At the word, each was to “go for his gun” and shoot.  High Chin carried his gun in the usual holster.  Bud Shoop’s gun was tucked in the waistband of his pants.

“Go!” said the sheepman.

High Chin’s hand flashed to his hip.  His gun jumped and spoke.  Shoop’s wrist turned.  Both bottles were shattered on the instant.  A tie was declared.

The men were placed with their backs toward the targets—­two empty bottles.  The sheepman faced them, with his hands behind his back.  When he snapped his fingers they were to turn and fire.  Many of the onlookers thought this test would leave High Chin a point ahead.

Both men swung and fired at the signal.  Again both bottles were shattered.  Although a tie was again declared, the crowd cheered for Shoop, realizing his physical handicap.  Yet many asserted that High Chin was the faster man, won to this decision by his lightning speed of movement and his easy manner, suggesting a kind of contemptuous indifference to results.

In contrast to High Chin’s swift, careless efficiency, Shoop’s solid poise and lack of elbow motion showed in strong relief.  Their methods were entirely dissimilar.  But it was evident to the old-timers that Shoop shot with less effort and waste motion than his lithe competitor.  And High Chin was the younger man by twenty years.

Thus far the tests had not been considered difficult.  But when the sheepman stepped off ten paces and faced the competitors with a cigar held at arm’s length, the chattering of the crowd ceased.  High Chin, as guest, was asked to shoot first.  He raised his gun.  It hung poised for a second.  As it jumped in his hand the ash flirted from the end of the cigar.  The crowd stamped and cheered.  Shoop congratulated High Chin.  The crowd hooted and called to Shoop to make good.  Even as they