"Perfectly!"
"Oiga!" said the captain to his chauffeur. "Turn your car so as to throw the light evenly along the sidewalk.... And now we will walk thirty paces apart and stand with our backs turned until you count three. Then the man who first puts a bullet through the other man's hat wins...."
Both men drew immense revolvers and stood a moment in the light, spinning the chambers.
"Listo! Ready!" cried the horseman.
"Hurry it," said the captain. "It is a bad thing to balk love."
Back to back, they had already begun to pace the distance.
"One!" shouted the chauffeur.
"Two!"
But quick as a flash the fat man wheeled in the trembling, uncertain light, threw down his lifted arm, and a mighty roar went soaring slowly into the heavy night. The Stetson of the other man, whose back was still turned, took an odd little leap ten feet beyond him. He spun around, but the captain was already climbing into his machine.
"Bueno!" he said cheerfully. "I win. Until to-morrow then, amigo!" And the automobile gathered speed and disappeared down the street. The horseman slowly went to where his hat lay, picked it up and examined it. He stood a moment meditating, and then deliberately mounted his horse and he also went away. I had already started some time before....