Carrington took in the situation.
"Wait a minute--" he said, and passed his purse to Norton.
"Cover his money, sir," he added briefly.
"Thank you, my horses have run away with most of my cash," explained Norton.
"Your shot!" said Carrington shortly, to the outlaw.
Murrell taking careful aim, fired, clipping the center.
As soon as the result was known, Carrington raised his rifle; his bullet, truer than his opponent's, drove out the center.

Murrell turned on him with an oath.
"You shoot well, but a board stuck against a tree is no test for a man's nerve," he said insolently.
Carrington was charging his piece.
"I only know of one other kind of target," he observed coolly.
"Yes--a living target!" cried Murrell.
The crowd opened from right to left.

Betty's face grew white, and uttering a smothered cry she started to descend from the carriage, but the judge rested his hand on her arm.
"No, my dear young, lady, our friend is quite able to care for himself." Carrington shook the priming into the pan of Hannibal's ancient weapon.
"I am ready for that, too," he said.

There was a slow smile on his lips, but his eyes, black and burning, looked the captain through and through.
"Another time--" said Murrell, scowling.
"Any time," answered Carrington indifferently..