"I guess you're a pretty level-headed kid," said Bill, "that bettin' thing ain't much good—I wisht I never'd made no bets," he added, reminiscently. "But I don't think y' kin hit it—not under present circumstances, I don't. I don't think that there Stetson is in no danger whatsumever!"
Whitey grinned and took careful aim and pulled the trigger. There was only the snap of the hammer and no report. Whitey looked at the rifle and then at the grinning Bill.
"What did I tell you!" said the latter, exultantly.
Whitey examined the rifle and then announced, disgustedly, "There wasn't any cartridge in it!"
"Jesso," said Bill, opening his big hand and showing Whitey the cartridge that he had removed from the gun when he had taken it into his hands for the ostensible purpose of examining it. "Jesso," he repeated. "I played it sort o' low-down on yo' so's to show yo' somethin'. There was jest two reasons why you wasn't goin' to let fly no bullet at that hat—mebbe three."
"What were they?" asked Whitey.
"Well," said Bill, "unless you're in a big hurry, always examine your gun 'fore yo' shoot, to see that everythin' is O. K. An' another an' more important thing is, always look where you're shootin'. If yo'll jest cast yer eye over and beyond that hat, you'll see there's two cow-punchers a-leanin' agin that corral—not right in line—but in that direction. I admit that a cow-puncher ain't worth much," said Bill, grinning at one or two of the boys who stood near watching the performance, "but 't ain't a good thing to shoot 'em up—'specially with no twenty-two's! The third reason is that's a mighty good hat—I paid eighteen bucks fer her!"
Whitey readily admitted the first two propositions, and said he would be careful anything like that did not occur again; but when Bill started to get his hat, Whitey said, "Just a moment, Mr. Jordan," and Bill stopped and looked at Whitey inquiringly.
"You offered to make me a bet, didn't you?" Whitey asked.
"Yes, I guess I did," said Bill, scratching his head. "What about it?"