A great crowd assembled at the picnic-ground. The three men specially invited were sitting under a tree, smoking and waiting. The showman came promptly on time, and shook hands with the three, but did not offer to tell his name. “Whut name does dey call you by?” Vinegar asked.
“I ain’t got no name,” the negro grinned.
“Dat’s strange!” Vinegar muttered. “I’ll call you Stranger, fer shawt.”
Stranger carried a heavy sack, and he now untied the top and poured the contents upon the ground. There were two or three dozen marbles, such as children use in their games; there were a dozen or more small apples, about a dozen empty pop-bottles, and several dozen tops of small tin cans.
“I’s a pistol-shooter,” the stranger announced. “Ef you misdoubts my confession, jes’ take a look.”
He tossed an apple above his head; quickly he tossed two more, juggling them in the air. Suddenly from somewhere he drew a big pistol, shot three times with startling quickness, and the shattered apples dropped at his feet.
There are men who are born with the strange gift of demonstrating that the hand is quicker than the eye. In civilized sections of the country men so gifted are sleight-of-hand performers; in other sections, less civilized, they become card-sharps, with the ability to “pitch a good game” and deal themselves cards from the bottom of the deck; in still other sections, they become expert gunmen whose skill as marksmen i............