Men were approaching from the other end of the street, joining the group in front of the saloon--which the rider now noticed was called the "Silver Dollar." The newcomers were inquisitive; they spoke in low tones to the men who had arrived before them, gravely inquiring the cause.
But the man in the street seemed not disturbed by his rapidly swelling audience.

He stood in the place he had selected, his insolent eyes roving over the assembled company, his thin, expressive lips opening a very little to allow words to filter through them.
"Gents," he said, "you're goin' to see some shootin'! I told you in the Silver Dollar that I could keep a can in the air while I put five holes in it.

There's some of you gassed about bein' showed, not believin'.

An' now I'm goin' to show you!" He reached down and took up a can that had lain at his feet, removing the red lithographed label, which had a picture of a large tomato in the center of it.

The can was revealed, naked and shining in the white sunlight.