hich grazed Peter's cheek. Then Peter countered on
Shad's injured nose. Shad's eyes were now regarding Peter in
astonishment. But in a moment only one of them was, for Peter closed the
other.

"We'd better stop now," gasped Peter, "and talk this over."

"No, you ---- ---- ----," roared Shad, for he suspected that somewhere
in the bushes Beth was watching.

Peter lost what remained of his shirt in the next rush and sprained a
thumb. It didn't do to fight Shad "rough and tumble." But he got away at
last and stood his man off, avoiding the blind rushes and landing almost
at will.

"Had enough?" he asked again, as politely as ever.

"No," gulped the other.

So Peter sprang in and struck with all the force of his uninjured hand
on the woodsman's jaw, and then Shad went down and lay quiet. It had
been ridiculously easy from the first and Peter felt some pity for Shad
and not a little contempt for himself. But he took the precaution of
bending over the man and extracting the revolver that he found in Shad's
hip pocket.

As he straightened and turned he saw Beth standing in the path regarding
him.

"Beth!" he exclaimed with a glance at Shad. "You saw?"

"Yes." She covered her face with her hands. "It was horrible."

"I tried to avoid it," he protested.

"Yes, I know. It was his own fault. Is he badly hurt?"

"No, I think not. But you'd better go."

"Why?"

"It will only make matters worse if he sees you."

She understood, turned and vanished obediently.

Then Peter went to the house, got a basin and, fetching some water from
the creek, played the Samaritan. In a while Shad gasped painfully and
sat up, looking at the victor.

"Sorry," said Peter, "but you _would_ have it."

Shad blinked his uninjured eye and rose, feeling at his hip.

"I took your revolver," said Peter calmly.

"Give it here."

"A chap with a bad temper has no business carrying one," said Peter
sternly.

"Oh----." The man managed to get to his feet.

"I'm sorry, Shad," said Peter again, and held out his hand. "Let's be
friends."

Shad looked at the hand sullenly for a moment. "I'll fix _you_, Mister.
I'll fix you yet," he muttered, then turned and walked away.

If Peter had made one friend he had also made an enemy.

The incident with Shad Wells was unfortunate, but Peter didn't see how
it could have been avoided. He was thankful nevertheless for his English
schooling, which had saved him from a defeat at the hands of a
"rough