I think
Manuelito would have accepted my challenge without hesitation and in
great glee if he had not been restrained by the Indian whom I have
mentioned before as having just arrived and recognized me. This
Indian said something to the chief, which seemed to interest and
excite them all. Chief Manuelito advanced, and extending his hand in
greeting, said that he had often wished to meet me, the wizard who
had beaten the champion marksman of the Navajo tribe.
Several years before I had in the town of Cubero, at the request of
Mexican friends, shot a target match with the most renowned marksman
of the Navajo tribe, my pistol being pitted against the Navajo's
rifle, and had beaten him with a wonderful shot to the discomfiture
and distress of a trading band of Indians, who bet on their
champion's prowess and lost their goods to the knowing Mexicans.
The chief then requested me to favor them with an exhibition of my
skill. I readily assented and directed them to put up a target. They
placed a flat rock against the trunk of a pine tree at so great a
distance that it was barely distinguishable to the naked eye. I
guessed the distance and my shot fell just below the mark. Then I
raised the hind sight of my Winchester a notch and the next shot
shattered the stone to pieces.
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