"You ought to practise with that six-shooter of yours, Hugh; a cow-boy ain't thought much of if he can't shoot straight. Look at that tin on the low bough there. That has been there ever since we were here a year ago. I mind that someone stuck it up for a tender-foot to shoot at; now, you see me knock it off. Jehoshaphat!" he exclaimed, when, as he put his hand on the butt of his pistol, a sharp crack sounded beside him, and the tin fell to the ground. A laugh from Hugh accompanied the shot.
"How in thunder did you do that?"
"The usual way, I suppose," Hugh said. "I drew my pistol, and pulled the trigger."
The cow-boy looked him over from head to foot. "I tell you what, Hugh, you are a fraud. You come here as a tender-foot, and you can sit on a bucking broncho, you've a good notion of throwing a rope, and you can shoot like lightning. Where did you get it all?"
"I have simply practised," Hugh said, smiling at the other's gravity of manner. "I made up my mind to take to ranching some months ago, and I practised with the pistol and rope before I started, and, as I told you, I have been three months hunting."
"It don't seem nateral," the cow-boy said doubtfully. "I don't say the shot was out of the way, for it wur an easy mark enough at twenty yards, but it wur the spryness of the shooting that fetched me."
"That is what I have been specially practising, Broncho. I was told that the great thing was to be able to draw quick."
"Well, let us see a little more of your shooting." He walked to the tree and picked up the tin. Hugh put in a fresh cartridge in place of that he had just fired. "Now I will throw this up, and you fire at it in the air." Bill Royce had told Hugh that this was a favourite mark of the cow-boys, and not having any tins out on the plains he had thrown up sods or the head of a stag for Hugh to fire at. Harry took his place about five yards from Hugh. "Now," he said. Hugh waited until the tin reached the highest point and then fired. It flew upward again; the other five shots were fired in quick succession, and then the tin fell to the ground. It was a feat frequently accomplished among the cow-boys, and Broncho Harry was himself perfectly capable of accomplishing it, but he was not the less surprised at seeing it performed by a new-comer to the plains.
"Well, you can shoot. Now let us see you draw; your pistol's empty, so there ain't no fear of an accident. Just put it in your belt again. Now stand facing me. We will draw together. Keep your hand down by your side till I say, now; then draw, cock, and pull your trigger. Stop! I will take my cartridges out, there ain't no use in taking risks, and in a hurry my trigger might go off too. Now, I am ready—now!"
Broncho Harry rather prided himself on the quickness with which he could draw, but his pistol was not out of his belt when the hammer of Hugh's fell, the lad having fired from his hip.