a sieve.
Gorman's curiosity, as well as that of everybody else, seemed
satisfied, and, gaining the level ground, the party broke into a
helter-skelter race for the revolver-shooting.

In this Sinclair himself had entered, and after the early matches
found only one troublesome contestant--Du Sang from the Cache, who was
present under Rebstock's wing. After Sinclair and Du Sang had tied in
test after test at shooting out of the saddle, Whispering Smith, who
lost sight of nothing in the gun-play, called for a pack of cards,
stripped the aces from the deck, and had a little conference with the
judge. The two contestants, Sinclair and Du Sang, were ordered back
thirty-five paces on their horses, and the railroad man, walking over
to the targets, held out between the thumb and forefinger of his left
hand the ace of clubs. The man that should first spot the pip out of
the card was to take the prize, a Cheyenne saddle. Sinclair shot, and
his horse, perfectly trained, stood like a statue. The card flew from
Smith's hand, but the bullet had struck the ace almost an inch above
the pip, and a second ace was held out for Du Sang. As he raised his
gun his horse moved. He spurred angrily, circled quickly about,
halted, and instantly fired. It was not alone that his bullet cut the
shoulder of the club pip on the card: the whole movement, beginning
with the circling dash of the horse under the spur, the sudden halt,
and the instantly accurate aim, raised a quick, approving yell for the
new-comer. The signal was given for Sinclair, and a third ace went up.
In the silence Sinclair, with deliberate care, brought his gun down on
the card, fired, and cut the pip cleanly from the white field. Du Sang
was urged to shoot again, but his horse annoyed him and he would not.

With a little speech the prize was given by Ed Banks to Sinclair.
"Here's hoping your gun will never be trained on me, Murray," smiled
the modest sheriff.

Sinclair responded in high humor. He had every reason to feel good.
His horses had won the running races, and his crowd had the honors
with the guns. He turned on Du Sang, who sat close by in the circle of
horsemen, and, holding the big prize out toward him on his knee, asked
him to accept it. "It's yours by rights anyway, Du Sang," declared
Sinclair. "You're a whole lot better shot than I am, every turn of the
road. You've shot all day from a nervous horse."

Not only would Sinclair not allow a refusal of his gift, but