“Six months ago a party of prospectors were coming over the Divide by a rocky foot trail.
“There were twelve in the party, and they were all miners. Some had had fair luck, and others were going home empty-handed.
“Suddenly one of them espied what he believed was a huge buffalo grazing in the canyon far below.
“At once the question of marksmanship came up. There were two expert shots in the party, Bert Mason and Sid Powell.
“A wager was made as to which one could hit the buffalo. It was arranged that both should shoot at the same time, using marked bullets.
“The bullet nearest the buffalo’s heart should belong to the winner.
“The trick was quickly made, the stakes put up, and both men fired.
“The supposed buffalo leaped in the air with a wild yell of pain and fell to the ground, while a mule cantered away up the canyon.
“The object had not been a buffalo, but a white man with a fur coat on riding slowly along on a mule.
“Of course Mason and Powell looked at each other with horror.