Mike turned red in the face, but he didn‘t say anything. Another trapper called out, "Hey, Mike, I thought you never missed a shot yet. Just big talk, huh?"

Mike turned purple.

Talbot stepped forward. His eyes were both sharp and sad. "What made you miss, Mike?"

Mike felt a shrill "Whoop!" gather in his throat, as it had every time before when he knew he could out-shoot any man east or west.

"I didn‘t miss!" he roared at Talbot. "I aimed right for Carpenter‘s forehead. I’m the greatest sharpshooter that every drew a bead..."

He never finished, because Talbot lifted his own rifle and shot Mike through the heart, not spilling a drop of blood.

Mike slumped to the ground. He had only enough breath left to puff his chest up one final time.

"Whoop!" he roared. "Cock-a-doodle-doo! I’m the original Pittsburgh screamer, roarer, and thunderer. I can out-shoot, out-fight, and out-yell anybody anywhere at any time." He took a final, small breath, and the words came out so faintly that it was almost a whisper. "And I was the best keelboat man that ever lived."

Mike was bragging still, there at the end. But those last words, as everybody knows, were the honest truth.