“What’s the matter with that?” asked the owner aggressively.

“Cylinder too tight,” said Dan decisively, and a moment later to another man, “Bad handle.  I don’t like the feel of it.”

Over Jim Silent’s guns he paused longer than over most of the rest, but finally he handed them back.  The big man scowled.

Dan looked back to him in gentle surprise.

“You see,” he explained quietly, “you got to handle a gun like a horse.  If you don’t treat it right it won’t treat you right.  That’s all I know about it.  Your gun ain’t very clean, stranger, an’ a gun that ain’t kept clean gets off feet.”

Silent glanced at his weapons, cursed softly, and restored them to the holsters.

“Lee,” he muttered to Haines, who stood next to him, “what do you think he meant by that?  D’ you figger he’s got somethin’ up his sleeve, an’ that’s why he acts so like a damned woman?”

“I don’t know,” said Haines gravely, “he looks to me sort of queer—­sort of different—­damned different, chief!”

By this time Dan had secured a second gun which suited him.  He whirled both guns, tried their actions alternately, and then announced that he was ready.  In the dead silence, one of the men paced off the twenty yards.

Dan, with his back turned, stood at the mark, shifting his revolvers easily in his hands, and smiling down at them as if they could understand his caress.

“How you feelin’, Dan?” asked Morgan anxiously.

“Everything fine,” he answered.

“Are you gettin’ weak?”

“No, I’m all right.”

“Steady up, partner.”

“Steady up?  Look at my hand!”

Dan extended his arm.  There was not a quiver in it.

“All right, Dan.  When you’re shootin’, remember that I got pretty close to everything I own staked on you.  There’s the stranger gettin’ his four dollars ready.”

Silent took his place with the four dollars in his hand.

“Are you ready?” he called.

“Let her go!” said Dan, apparently without the least excitement.

Jim Silent threw the coins, and he threw them so as to increase his chances as much as possible.  A little snap of his hand gave them a rapid rotary motion so that each one was merely a speck of winking light.  He flung them high, for it was probable that Whistling Dan would wait to shoot until they were on the way down.  The higher he threw them the more rapidly they would be travelling when they crossed the level of the markman’s eye.

As a shout proclaimed the throwing of the coins, Dan whirled, and it seemed to the bystanders that a revolver exploded before he was fully turned; but one of the coins never rose to the height of the throw.  There was a light “cling!” and it spun a dozen yards away.  Two more shots blended almost together; two more dollars darted away in twinkling streaks of light.  One coin still fell, but when it was a few inches from the earth a six-shooter barked again and the fourth dollar glanced sidewise into the dust.  It takes long to describe the feat.  Actually, the four shots consumed less than a second of time.