THE SHOOTOUT B.S. ALWAYS WON

He was rough and tough and it was said he had the hide of a buffalo. He could outshoot the toughest galoot who ever pulled a gun. He would duel any fool who broke the rule of the wooly west. Bullets bounced off his chest. And he'd always win out in a shootout with one bullet in his gun.

"All I need is just one shot to put the hombre down," said Buffalo Skin, as he was known all over this old town. B. S., his name for short, had some sort of trickery that always brought him victory.

As the shootout began he'd eye his opposition, then take a strange position. ˙His gun would stay holstered at his side. He'd throw out his chest and hold it tight and wave as if to say, "C'mon, galoot, shoot away!" And he'd stand there tight and taut as shot after shot bounced off his chest like rubber balls off thick brick walls.

B. S. would count the shots up to six. Now his enemy was in a iix with an empty gun as B. S. with utmost care aimed and shot his lone bullet STRAIGHT UP IN THE AIR. It wounded a flying eagle passing by who fell to earth and clawed the other guy, gouged out his eye, ate his nose, pecked his toes. tore off his clothes and nibbled on his chest and all the rest of him he desired.

Then coyotes came in, ripped off his skin and ate what was inside his hide. Vultures waited patiently, then ate all that was left except the bones which turned to dust in the sun. And B. S. won another one.

How'd he do it? He won't tell. But late that night in the bright moonlight a giant turtle climbed out of his shirt and with nicks and bullet holes in his shell he snuggled up to B. S. and they slept together for quite a spell.