nd like this, I should most certainly fail--I've burnt too
much midnight oil. Eh--what--damn the dog, he's scored another center
shot!"

"It would be hard to beat that--" they heard Murrell say.

"At least it would be quite possible to equal it," said Carrington,
advancing with Hannibal's rifle in his hands. It was tossed to his
shoulder, and poured out its contents in a bright stream of flame. There
was a moment of silence.

"Center shot, ma'am!" cried the judge.

"I'll add twenty dollars to the purse!" Norton addressed himself to
Carrington. "And I shall hope, sir, to see it go in to your pocket."

"Our sentiments exactly, ma'am, are they not?" said the judge.

"Perhaps you'd like to bet a little of your money?" remarked Murrell.

"I'm ready to do that too, sir," responded Norton quietly.

"Five hundred dollars, then, that this gentleman in whose success you
take so great an interest, can neither equal nor better my next shot!"
Murrell had produced a roll of bills as he spoke. Norton colored with
embarrassment. Carrington took in the situation.

"Wait a minute--" he said, and passed his purse to Norton.

"Cover his money, sir," he added briefly.

"Thank you, my horses have run away with most of my cash," explained
Norton.

"Your shot!" said Carrington shortly, to the outlaw.

Murrell taking careful aim, fired, clipping the center.

As soon as the result was known, Carrington raised his rifle; his
bullet, truer than his opponent's, drove out the center. Murrell turned
on him with an oath.

"You shoot well, but a board stuck against a tree is no test for a man's
nerve," he said insolently.

Carrington was charging his piece.

"I only know of one other kind of target," he observed coolly.

"Yes--a living target!" cried Murrell.

The crowd opened from right to left. Betty's face grew white, and
uttering a smothered cry she started to descend from the carriage, but
the judge rested his hand on her arm.

"No, my dear young, lady, our friend is quite able to care for himself."

Carrington shook the priming into the pan of Hannibal's ancient weapon.

"I am ready for that, too," he said. There was a slow smile on his lips,
but his eyes, black and burning, looked the captain through and through.

"Another time--" said Murrell, scowling.

"Any time," answered Carrington indifferently.

CHAPTER XVI. THE PORTAL OF HOPE

"This--" the speaker was judge Price; "this is the place for me: They
ar