ys, here's to spunky little South Carolina; may
she go in and win! Stranger, what'll you drink?"

"I will not drink," replied a clear, manly voice, which had been silent
till then.

"And why will you not drink?" rejoined the other, mocking the dignified
and determined tone in which the invitation was refused.

"It is sufficient that I will not."

"Mayhap you don't like my sentiment?"

"Right."

"Look you, Mr. Harold Hare, I know you well, and I think we'll take you
down from your high horse before you're many hours older in these parts.
Boys, let's make him drink to South Carolina."

"Who is he, anyhow?"

"He's an abolitionist; just the kind that'll look a darned sight more
natural in a coat of tar and feathers. Cut out his heart and you'll find
John Brown's picture there as large as life."

At the mention of Harold's name, Arthur and Beverly had started up
simultaneously, and throwing open the bar-room door, entered hastily.
Harold had risen from his seat and stood confronting Rawbon with an air
in which anger and contempt were strangely blended. The latter leaned
with awkward carelessness against the counter, sipping a glass of
spirits and water with a malicious smile.

"You are an insolent scoundrel," said Harold, "and I would horsewhip
you, if you were worth the pains."

Rawbon looked around and for a second seemed to study the faces of
those about him. Then lazily reaching over toward Harold, he took him by
the arm and drew him toward the counter.

"Say, you just come and drink to South Carolina."

The heavy horsewhip in Harold's hand rose suddenly and descended like a
flash. The knotted lash struck Rawbon full in the mouth, splitting the
lips like a knife. In an instant several knives were drawn, and Rawbon,
spluttering an oath through the spurting blood that choked his
utterance, drew a revolver from its holster at his side.

The entrance of the two young men was timely. They immediately placed
themselves in front of Harold, and Arthur, with his usual mild
expression, looked full in Rawbon's eye, although the latter's pistol
was in a line with his breast.

"Stand out of the way, you two," shouted Rawbon, savagely.

"What is the meaning of this, gentlemen?" said Beverly, quietly, to the
excited bystanders, to several of whom he was personally known.

"Squire Weems," replied one among them, "you had better stand aside.
Rawbon has a lien on that fellow's hide. He's an abolitionist, anyhow,
and