“Whoosh! With all those diamond buttons? Mañana!”
Phelps, with a disgusted flirt of the shoulders, turned to Benner.
“Go you,” he said brusquely.
The money was flashed in a minute, another baron offering himself as stakeholder. The street was cleared down the middle, a long line of men grouped on either side.
A dollar was flipped into the air to see which should throw first. Benner won the toss.
Meanwhile, Wild Bill had been working out a mental problem. He measured Benner’s height and guessed at the possible strength of his arm; then he guessed at the weight of the watch. With these items to work on, he found a place down the street where he believed Benner’s watch would land.
The Laramie man was prompted by curiosity alone. He wanted to see how much would be left of the expensive timekeeper when it hit the ground.
Benner drew back his arm. For a second, Wild Bill doubted whether he would keep his nerve and go on with his folly. But there was no backing down on the part of the cattle baron.
The hand came forward and the five-hundred dollar missile shot through the air, reflecting the sun like a live coal. It smashed to earth within a yard of where Wild Bill stood.
“Hooray for the man in black!” roared Wild Bill. “I had a notion he wouldn’t be fool enough to throw—but he was.”