automatic. Cheyenne declined to experiment with the gun.

"It's a mean gat," he asserted, "and it's fast. But I'll bet you a new
hat I can empty my old smoke-wagon quicker than you can that pocket
machine gun."

For the fun of the thing, Bartley took him up. He selected as target a
juniper stump, and blazed away.

"I'm leavin' the decision to you," said Cheyenne, as he braced his right
arm against his body and fanned the Colt, emptying it before Bartley
could realize that he had fired three shots--and Cheyenne had fired
five.

"I'll buy you that hat when we get to town," laughed Bartley. "You beat
me, hands down."

"Hands down is right, old-timer. Fannin' a gun is show stuff, but it's
wicked, at close range."

Meanwhile, Bartley had been experimenting further with the Luger. When
he got through he had a hat full of pieces and Cheyenne was staring at
what seemed to be the wreck of a once potent weapon.

"Why, you done pulled that little lead sprinkler all to bits!" exclaimed
Cheyenne, "and you didn't have no tools to do it with."

"You can take down and assemble this gun without tools," stated Bartley.
"All you need is your fingers."