anything to be the greatest gunfighter in the world. He practiced every
minute of his spare time, but he knew that he wasn't yet first-rate and that
there must be something he was doing wrong. Sitting in a saloon one Saturday
night, he recognized an elderly man seated at the bar who had the reputation
of being the fastest gun in the West in his day. The young cowboy took a seat
next to the old-timer, bought him a drink, and told him the story of his great
ambition.
"Do you think you could give me some tips?" he asked.
The old man looked him up and down and said, "Well, for one thing, you're
wearing your gun too high. Tie the holster a lil' lower down on your leg."
"Will that make me a better gunfighter?" asked the young man.
"Sure will," said the old-timer.
The young man did as he was told, stood up, whipped out his .44 and shot the
bow tie off the piano player. "That's terrific!" said the cowboy. "Got any more
tips for me?"
"Yep," said the old man. "Cut a notch out of your holster where the hammer
hits it. That'll give you a smoother draw."
"Will that make me a better gunfighter?" asked the younger man.
"You bet it will," said the old-timer.
The young man took out his knife, cut the notch, stood up, drew his gun in a
blur, then shot a cufflink off the piano player. "Wow!" said the cowboy.
"I'm learnin' somethin' here. Got any more tips?"
The old man pointed to a large can in a corner of the saloon. "See that axle
grease over there? Coat your gun with it."
The young man went over to the can and smeared some of the grease on the
barrel of his gun.
"No," said the old-timer, "I mean smear it all over the gun, handle and
all."
"Will that make me a better gunfighter?" asked the young man.
"No," said the old-timer, "but when Wyatt Earp gets done playin' the piano,
he's going to shove that gun up your ass and it won't hurt as much."
