A rather amusing yarn followed this, detailing an incident that had taken place at the little neighbouring village of Eureka. Mr. McKees, the superintendent of a mine there, had nailed up a board notice outside the office, forbidding revolver practice on the premises. News of this was brought by some one who had seen it to a saloon hard by, where Black Jack, Russian Bill, Broncho Billy, and some other well-known "rustlers" were drinking.
"How's that for high, boys?" concluded the narrator, when he had told his tale.
"That's on top," declared Black Jack; "that takes the cake. It's coming to something, if a chap can't shoot his gun off where he likes in a free country."
"It's a perfect outrage," said Broncho.
"Let's go right down and attend to it at once," proposed Russian Bill.
Black Jack assented, suggesting that Russian Bill, who was a scholar, should read the notice aloud, and he himself then shoot it off.
They started, two or three of their associates, armed with Winchesters, going with them, to occupy a position behind the "dump," near the mouth of the shaft, and see fair play. Russian Bill having read the notice, Black Jack drew a long six-shooter, and opened fire. The office was constructed of boards, and afforded but little protection, therefore, to its inmates. The first shot spoilt the leg of the chair in which the superintendent of the mine was seated; the second lodged in his desk. But Mr. McKees had already left the room, and gone to "take the air" upon the hill-side, nor did he return until the nobility and gentry who were visiting him had shot the board off, and carried the splinters away in triumph.
Black Jack was a fine shot, and remarkably quick. He prided himself upon his ability as a hair-cutter, and was jealous of any rivalry in this line. A friend of his once had the temerity to advance his own claims to distinction as a barber.
"Oh, pshaw, Jack!" he said, "I can cut hair every durned bit as good as you."
But the words had scarcely left his lips when there was a report, and a bullet ploughed through his locks, just grazing the skin, and leaving a bald track.