and your powder, and Buck-killer, and your powder-horn and shot-pouch to
boot! How long you gwine stand thar talking 'fore you shoot?"

"Never mind," said Hiram, "I can talk a little and shoot a little, too,
but that's nothin'. Here goes!"

Hiram assumed the figure of a note of interrogation, took a long sight,
and fired.

"I've eat paper," said he, at the crack of the gun, without looking, or
seeming to look, toward the target. "Buck-killer made a clear racket.
Where am I, gentlemen?"

"You're just between Mealy and the diamond," was the reply.

"I said I'd eat paper, and I've done it; haven't I, gentlemen?"

"And 'spose you have!" said Mealy, "what do that 'mount to? You'll not
win beef, and never did."

"Be that as it mout be, I've beat Meal 'Cotton mighty easy; and the boy
you call Hiram Baugh are able to do it."

"And what do that 'mount to? Who the devil an't able to beat Meal
'Cotton! I don't make no pretense of bein' nothin' great, no how; but
you always makes out as if you were gwine to keep 'em makin' crosses for
you constant, and then do nothin' but '_eat paper_' at last; and that's
a long way from _eatin' beef_, 'cordin' to Meal 'Cotton's notions, as
you call him."