ndian finished sharply, and
with the toe of his boot kicked the nearest stake clear of the loose
soil. He stooped, picked it up, and cast it contemptuously from him. It
landed three feet in front of the man who had planted it, and he jumped
and shifted the rifle significantly upon his arm, so that the butt of it
caressed his right shoulder-joint.

"Now, now, we don't want any overt acts of violence here," wheezed
Baumberger, laying hand upon Good Indian's shoulder from behind. Good
Indian shook off the touch as if it were a tarantula upon him.

"You go to the devil," he advised chillingly.

"Tut, tut!" Baumberger reproved gently. "The ladies are within hearing,
my boy. Let's get at this thing sensibly and calmly. Violence only makes
things worse. See how quiet Wally and Jack and Clark and Gene are! THEY
realize how childishly spiteful it would be for them to follow your
example. They know better. They don't want--"

Jack grinned, and hitched his gun into plainer view. "When we start in,
it won't be STICKS we're sending to His Nibs," he observed placidly.
"We're just waiting for him to ante."

"This," said Baumberger, a peculiar gleam coming into his leering,
puffy-lidded eyes, and a certain hardness creeping into his voice, "this
is a matter for your father and me to settle. It's just-a-bide-beyond
you youngsters. This is a civil case. Don't foolishly make it come under
the criminal code. But there!" His voice purred at them again. "You
won't. You're all too clear-headed and sensible."

"Oh, sure!" Wally gave his characteristic little snort. "We're only just
standing around to see how fast the cabbages grow!"

Baumberger advanced boldly across the dead line.

"Stanley, put down that gun, and explain your presence here and your
object," he rumbled. "Let's get at this thing right end to. First, what
are you doing here?"

The man across the line did not put down his rifle, except that he let
the butt of it drop slightly away from his shoulder so that the sights
were in alignment with an irrigating shovel thrust upright into the
ground ten feet to one side of the group. His manner lost little of its
watchfulness, and his voice was surly with defiance when he spoke. But
Good Indian, regarding him suspiciously through half-closed lids, would
have sworn that a look of intelligence flashed between those two. There
was nothing more than a quiver of his nostrils to betray him as he moved
over beside Evadna--for the pure