Of course such an occasion could not pass without
a shooting-match. Rifles were brought out after the
feast was over, just before the sun went down into its
bed on the western prairies, and "the nail" was soon
surrounded by bullets, tipped by Joe Blunt and Jim
Scraggs, and of course driven home by Dick Varley,
whose "silver rifle" had now become in its owner's hand
a never-failing weapon. Races, too, were started, and
here again Dick stood pre-eminent; and when night
spread her dark mantle over the scene, the two best