"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."