by inch, as though he were
going out to rope the stanchest steer that ever roamed the range.
Already he knew that those ropes were sound and true throughout, but he
took no chances now. One of the ropes he discarded because one or two
strands in it were, or might be, a trifle frayed. The others he took
alternately and whirled with a broad loop, standing in the centre of the
room. Of the set one was a little more supple, a little more durable, it
seemed. This he selected and coiled swiftly.

Last of all he lingered--and longest--over his revolvers. Six in all, he
set them in a row along the bed and without delay threw out two to begin
with. Then he fingered the others, tried their weight and balance,
slipped cartridges into the cylinders and extracted them again, whirled
the cylinders, examined the minutest parts of the actions.

They were all such guns as an expert would have turned over with shining
eyes, but finally he threw one aside into the discard; the cylinder
revolved just a little too hard. Another was abandoned after much
handling of the remaining three because to the delicate touch of Nash it
seemed that the weight of the barrel was a gram more than in the other
two; but after this selection it seemed that there was no possible
choice between the final two.

So he stood in the centre of the room and went through a series of odd
gymnastics. Each gun in turn he placed in the holster and then jerked it
out, spinning it on the trigger guard around his second finger, while
his left hand shot diagonally across his body and "fanned" the hammer.
Still he could not make his choice, but he would not abandon the effort.
It was an old maxim with him that there is in all the world one gun
which is the best of all and with which even a novice can become a
"killer."

He tried walking away, whirling as he made his draw, and levelling the
gun on the door-knob. Then without moving his hand, he lowered his head
and squinted down the sights. In each case the bead was drawn to a
centre shot. Last of all he weighed each gun; one seemed a trifle
lighter--the merest shade lighter than the other. This he slipped into
the holster and carried the rest of his apparatus back to the closet
from which he had taken it.

Still the preparation had not ended. Filling his cartridge belt, every
cartridge was subject to a rigid inspection. A full half hour was wasted
in this manner. Wasted, because he rejected not one of the many he
examine