"Hurry up," said Morgan confidently. "I dunno what you're thinkin', stranger. Which I'm kind of deaf an' I don't understand the way anything talks except money." "Corral that talk, Morgan!" called a voice from the crowd, "you're plumb locoed if you think any man in the world can get away with a stunt like that! Pick four in the air!" "You keep your jaw for yourself," said Silent angrily, "if he wants to donate a little more money to charity, let him do it. Morgan, I've got five hundred here to cover your stake." "Make him give you odds, Morgan," said another voice, "because----" A glance from Silent cut the suggestion short. After that there was little loud conversation. The stakes were large. The excitement made the men hush the very tones in which they spoke. Morgan moistened his white lips. "You c'n see I'm not packin' any shootin' irons," said Dan. "Has anybody got any suggestions?" Every gun in the crowd was instantly at his service. They were heartily tempted to despise Dan, but as one with the courage to attempt the impossible, they would help him as far as they could. He took their guns one after the other, weighed them, tried the action, and handed them back. It was almost as if there were a separate intelligence in the ends of his fingers which informed him of the qualities of each weapon. "Nice gun," he said to the first man whose revolver he handled, "but I don't like a barrel that's quite so heavy. There's a whole ounce too much in the barrel." "What d'you mean?" asked the cowpuncher. "I've packed that gun for pretty nigh eight years!" "Sorry," said Dan passing on, "but I can't work right with a top-heavy gun." The next weapon he handed back almost at once. "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.