"Well," said Whitey, "I always heard that if a fellow didn't have a chance to win, then he didn't have a chance to lose. That's so, isn't it?"
"Well, yes," admitted Bill, "I guess that's right 'nuff."
"Then," said Whitey, resolutely and with conviction, "I think I'm entitled to a real chance at that hat!"
This was a bomb-shell in Bill Jordan's camp. The cow-punchers who had gathered around heartily endorsed Whitey's argument. "The Kid's right! Come on, Bill! Be game! Give him a chance!" came from all sides, coupled with loud laughter and slaps on Bill's broad back.
Bill scratched his head and grinned in great apparent apprehension. "Looks like the majority was agin me," he said, finally, looking ruefully at the Stetson and calling to the cow-punchers at the corral to get out of the way. "An' that is a good hat, too! All right! Fire away! I throws myself on the mercy o' the co't! But say, Son, have a heart! You're shootin' at eighteen dollars wo'th o' hat!"
Whitey took careful aim and fired, and the hat flew up into the air and fell in the dust. A loud yell went up from the boys as several of them ran and picked it up and brought it to Bill, who examined the hole in it ruefully. "She's ventilated now, all right," he said, "an' I reckon it'll be some lengths o' periods 'fore I tries to put anythin' over on this here kid again! If I ever do so far fergit myself, I got this here ventilator in my sky-piece to remind me!"
It was plain, however, that Bill was tickled at the way Whitey had handled the situation, and "making a hit" with Bill Jordan meant something on the Granville ranch.