Farm wagons,
spring wagons, and automobiles were drawn wheel to wheel upon both
sides of the flat. From the vehicles women and children in holiday
attire applauded the feats of the cowboys with cheers and the waving of
handkerchiefs, while the men stood about in groups and watched with
apparent indifference as they talked of fences and flumes.
From the top of the lumber piles, and the long low roof of the wool
warehouse, the train passengers entered into the spirit of the fun
gasping in horror at some seemingly miraculous escape from death
beneath the pounding hoofs of the cow-horses, only to cheer themselves
hoarse when they saw that the apparent misadventure had been purposely
staged for their benefit.
Races were won by noses. Hats, handkerchiefs, and even coins were
snatched from the ground by riders who hung head and shoulder below
their horses' bellies. Mounts were exchanged at full gallop. Playing
cards were pierced by the bullets of riders who dashed past them at
full speed. And men emptied their guns in the space of seconds without
missing a shot.
In each event the gaudily caparisoned Jack Purdy was at the fore,
either winning or crowding the winner to his supremest effort. And it
was Purdy who furnished the real thrill of the shooting tournament
when, with a six-shooter in each hand, he jumped an empty tomato can
into the air at fifteen paces by sending a bullet into the ground
beneath its base and pierced it with a bullet from each gun before it
returned to earth.
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