The two notable exceptions referred to were strangely contrasted.  The elder was one of the prospectors.  He was armed with an ancient 45-70 Winchester, worn smooth and shiny by long carrying in a saddle holster.  This arm was fitted with buckhorn sights of the old mountain type.  When it exploded, its black powder blew forth a stunning detonation and volume of smoke.  Nevertheless, of the three bullets, two were within the tiny black Thorne had seen fit to mark as bullseye, and the other clipped close to its edge.  A murmur of admiration went up from the bystanders.  Even eliminating the unaccountable nervousness that had thrown so many shots wild, it seemed improbable that any of the other contestants felt themselves qualified to equal this score.

“Good shooting,” whispered Bob to Amy.  “I doubt if I could make out that bullseye through sights.”

The other exception, whose turn came somewhat later, was one of the Easterners mentioned as a graduate of the forestry school.  This young man, not over twenty-two years of age, was an attractive youngster, with refined features, and engaging dark-blue eyes.  His arm was the then latest model, a 33-calibre high power, fitted with aperture sights.  This he manipulated with great care, adjusting it again and again; and fired with such deliberation that some of the spectators moved impatiently.  Nevertheless, the target, on examination, showed that he had duplicated the prospector’s score.  To be sure, the worst shot had not cut quite as close to the bull as had that of the older man, but on the other hand, those in the black were slightly nearer the centre.  It was generally adjudged a good tie.

“Well, youngster!” cried the prospector, heartily, “we’re the cocks of the walk!  If you can handle the other weep’n as well, I’ll give you my hand for a good shot.”

The young man smiled shyly, but said nothing.

The distance was now shortened to something under twenty paces, and a new target substituted for the old.  The black in this was fully six inches in diameter.

“Five shots with six-shooter,” announced Thorne briefly.

“A man should hit a dollar twice in five at that distance,” muttered the prospector.  Thorne caught the remark.

“You hit that five out of five, and I’ll forgive you,” said he curtly.  “Hicks, you begin.”

The contest went forward with varying success.  Not over half of the men were practised with the smaller arm.  Some very wild work was done.  On the other hand, eight or ten performed very creditably, placing their bullets in or near the black.  Indeed, two succeeded in hitting the bullseye four times out of five.  Every man took the utmost pains with every shot.

“Now, Ware,” said Thorne, at last, “step up.  You’ve got to make good that five out of five to win.”