Now the excitement was greater than it had been at any time during the day, for it was seen that the tenderfoot stood an even chance of winning.
“He shall not win!” cried Indian Charlie, deep in his burning heart. “He must not win!”
Then for a moment he turned toward the nearest corral and lifted his hand to his hat in a peculiar manner.
No one observed this movement, for the attention of all seemed concentrated on the handsome youth who was doing the shooting.
Frank had made ninety-three out of ninety-five. With his next two shots he broke two more balls.
If he broke another he would tie Indian Charlie.
Once more the foreman of the Lone Star faced toward the corral and made a rapid gesture. His face was pale and his hands shook. He felt that he would be eternally disgraced if beaten by this boy.
Bang!
Frank fired again and another ball was broken.
Charlie was tied!