As they approached the stream, he remarked, "I say, Bute, it's too bad we can't use the pasteboards while on the jog; but I can win a five out of you by an old game of ours. I bet you I can empty my revolver quicker 'n you can."
"We'd better save our amernition and make no noise."
"Oh, pshaw! I always have better luck when I'm free and careless like. It's your sneaking fellers that always get caught. Besides, who'll notice? This little game is common enough all through the mountains, and everybody knows that there's no mischief in such kind of firing. I want to win back some of my money."
"Well, then, take you up; go ahead."
Instantly from Brandt's pistol there were six reports following one another so quickly that they could scarcely be distinguished.
"Now beat that if you can!" cried Brandt, who had a second and concealed revolver ready for an emergency.
"The fool!" thought Bute, "to put himself at the marcy of any man. I can pluck him to-night like a winged pa'tridge;" but he too fired almost as quickly as his companion.
"You only used five ca'tridges in that little game, my friend," said
Brandt.
"Nonsense! I fired so quick you couldn't count 'em."
"Now see here, Bute," resumed Brandt, in an aggrieved tone, "you've got to play fair with me. I've cut my eye-teeth since you used to fleece me, and I'll swear you fired only five shots. Let's load and try again."