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coat, mounted bare backed on a fine Indian pony went flying past. Reining in at the end of the street, he turned his horse and with a whoop of defiance yelled out. "You cant shoot worth a d- I'll give you another show. Fair plan, now - Dont shoot till I get started"- Bending low on the neck of his horse, he plunged in the spurs, dashed down the street through a perfect Balaclava of fire and noise. and to the astonishment of every spectator escaped without a scratch. Though at least fifty shots were fired at him. A crowd was one day collected on the street uproariously applauding the efforts of a half drunken man to stand on his head - a man in an adjacent saloon made a wager