As the test of skill went on, it developed that the banker excelled if he took time to aim accurately, while he of Socorro Springs was the superior at quick shooting. "It's my specialty in the shooting line," said Curtis. "You'd better practise it, Aleck. It's the thing that counts most if you get into a scrimmage." He handed his hat, a wide-brimmed, gray felt, to Judge Banks, asking him to throw it up, adding, "I'd do it myself if my left arm wasn't in dry dock." He raised his revolver as the hat left the judge's hand; there were three quick reports, and he sprang forward and caught the descending sombrero on the muzzle of his pistol. The three perforations in the crown of the hat were so close together that a silver dollar covered them. "Bravo!" exclaimed the judge. "I don't know but two other men who can do that. Little Jack Wilder never misses the trick, and Emerson Mead, over at Las Plumas, does it as if he were a machine and couldn't miss. If you ever get a grudge against me, Mr. Conrad, I'll engage the undertaker and order my tombstone at once!" Bancroft turned away quickly. He swung his arm upward, fired, and found that his bullet had hardly nicked the outer rim of the target. "Don't pay any attention to your gun," Curtis admonished him. "Keep both eyes open, look at the bull's-eye, and unconsciously you'll aim right at it. If you get into a gun play, where it's a choice between giving up the ghost yourself or getting the other fellow's, you want to fasten your eyes on his most accessible part, point your gun that way, and shoot on the wink. Between the eyes is a good place, for then you can hold him with your own. That's the way I shall fix Delafield," he added, dropping his voice. Cold anger seized upon Bancroft as the picture of that gun muzzle close to his own forehead came vividly into his imagination. Until now Conrad had not mentioned the subject of Delafield to him since the day of his return to town, and the banker's friendly feelings had renewed themselves with the growth of his own confidence and with his desire to compass what he wished without violence. But Curtis had only to speak of his purpose in this cold-blooded manner for the banker to know that he, too, was rapidly becoming as implacable as his pursuer. Judge Banks was talking to Miss Dent about the view and the New Mexican climate, and quoting Wordsworth on "the witchery of the soft blue sky." She was compelling an expression of smiling interest, while her thoughts were with Bancroft and his danger. The desire possessed her to stand near him, to hover about him, as if her mere presence would protect him from peril. The friendly revolver practice between the two men made her sick at heart, and she was waiting with inward impatience for the moment when she could propose returning to the veranda.