Had Bonnie Belle been there he would have refused. But to do the best he could he took a half-empty bottle, hastily poured water into it, and set it before the man, hoping to have him get but half the quantity. The miner suspected, held it up to the lamp, and looked at it. “Is this pale sherry, Shuffles?” “It’s whisky.” “You lies, for you have drowned it with water, so you kin hev it.” Quick as a flash he dashed the stuff full into the face of poor Shuffles, who, blinded and maddened, drew his revolver and fired a shot at random. It was the last act of his life, for he dropped dead with a bullet in his brain, while Pistols called out: “He put water into my whisky, pards, and then shot at me, so I kilt him. Thar he lies ahind the bar.” To put water in whisky was a criminal offense which the miners of Yellow Dust Valley could not forgive or forget, and so Shuffles lost the sympathy of the crowd by his heinous act, while Pistols rose in their estimation for visiting just punishment upon one who would do such a thing. “Now, Pard Studley, I wants some whisky,” and Pistols turned to the bartender nearest, who quickly placed a fresh bottle before him, while the miner took the other which had caused the trouble, and, dashing it against the wall at the rear of the bar, shivered it to atoms. “Yer sha’n’t p’izen no one else with watered whisky,” he said. Then, turning to those who had gathered about him, he said: “J’ine me, folks, in a lettle beverage, for I’m bettin’ high it will be ther Simon-pure article. Does yer catch on?” They “caught on” with alacrity, and with the upturned face of Shuffles, the eyes wide open staring into his own, Pistols poured his glass full to the brim and dashed it down his throat. A hush had fallen upon the crowd during this scene, and a few of the timid ones, or, rather, those who wished to avoid being in a row, silently withdrew from the building. There were several who felt that Buffalo Bill was making a sad mistake in having accepted the challenge of Pistols, while others knew that had he not done so, a row would have been precipitated at once, for he would certainly have insulted the scout then and there. A few now hastened to tell Buffalo Bill, who had not risen from his seat, that Pistols had just killed Shuffles, and had then taken a tumblerful of whisky, so was in a dangerous mood. “He didn’t have quite enough ter brace him fer trouble with you, pard, for he has heerd o’ you, as we all has, and that’s why he got more. He’s primed now, and will go off like a hair-trigger,” a miner said. “Yaas, so jist go out and let him alone,” another added. Buffalo Bill smiled serenely. It was a smile that some who saw it felt boded mischief. Then he said complacently: “I never seek trouble, gentlemen, unless I am after a man I know needs running down, and duty compels me. I sought no trouble with your comrade, and merely accepted his challenge, so he can turn it into any game that suits his humor best.”