Phelps took the timepiece and turned it over and over in his hands. It was big and of an eighteen-karat yellow. There was a steer’s head engraved on the front, and a prairie scene on the back. The steer’s eyes were diamonds. The chain was as large as a steel hawser, and the dangling charm was massive and encrusted with “sparks.” “Um!” mused Phelps. “How much did you pay for this timepiece, Lige?” “Five hundred,” was the careless answer. Phelps handed back the watch and pulled another from somewhere under his short jacket. “I got one that’s just as good, an’ it only cost me four hundred.” Benner pondered for a moment. “Say, Hank,” said he, as a bright idea gathered in his brain. “I’ll bet a hundred I can throw my watch farther down the street than you can throw yours.” “Well, great horn-toads!” muttered the Laramie man. “I wonder how far it is to the nearest asylum for the feeble-minded.” “Did you speak?” asked Hank Phelps, whirling on Wild Bill. “I did. I was wondering if they throw in a watch with every suit of greaser clothes they sell in this town?” “Buy a suit and find out!” “Whoosh! With all those diamond buttons? Mañana!” Phelps, with a disgusted flirt of the shoulders, turned to Benner. “Go you,” he said brusquely. The money was flashed in a minute, another baron offering himself as stakeholder. The street was cleared down the middle, a long line of men grouped on either side. A dollar was flipped into the air to see which should throw first. Benner won the toss. Meanwhile, Wild Bill had been working out a mental problem. He measured Benner’s height and guessed at the possible strength of his arm; then he guessed at the weight of the watch. With these items to work on, he found a place down the street where he believed Benner’s watch would land. The Laramie man was prompted by curiosity alone. He wanted to see how much would be left of the expensive timekeeper when it hit the ground. Benner drew back his arm. For a second, Wild Bill doubted whether he would keep his nerve and go on with his folly. But there was no backing down on the part of the cattle baron. The hand came forward and the five-hundred dollar missile shot through the air, reflecting the sun like a live coal. It smashed to earth within a yard of where Wild Bill stood. “Hooray for the man in black!” roared Wild Bill. “I had a notion he wouldn’t be fool enough to throw--but he was.” “Hesh, neighbor!” said a Texan, who stood close to Wild Bill. “Don’t ye go fer ter git Lige Benner down on ye. He’s a power in these parts, an’ he won’t stand fer any funnin’.” “No?” returned the Laramie man. “Well, I didn’t know they raised such trash in this part of the Lone Star State.”