“Let ’er ride!” Nick shouted.
Silent threw the can into the air. Then, so quickly that the eye could not follow him, he dragged his gun from the holster. The crack of the revolver awoke the echoes. Five times he fired, as fast as his finger could pull the trigger. The can bounded about in the air as though attached to a string.
“Wow!” Teddy gasped. “What a man!”
Silent stared at his smoking gun.
“I may have missed once,” he said casually. “I’ll take a look.”
He slid off his pony and walked to where the can lay.
“Yep,” he said sorrowfully. “Only five holes in it. One of ’em was there before. I missed a shot.”
“Well, for the love of Pete, you grousin’ about missin’ one in five?” Nick exclaimed. “Let’s see the can!”
Silent handed it to him. Nick’s eyes opened wide.
“Five nice, clean holes! Hey, you didn’t miss any! One of yore shots hit the hole that was in it already—it made it bigger! Look!”