hots were hardly audible for the yells and wild halloos of
merriment. The match at last was finished. Jim Goodman's last pigeon
hopped, and he was upon it in a rage. He took it up and examined it. It
was riddled with shot. He felt it, weighed it. Then his face grew
fairly black. From being only mean, he looked murderous. He was losing
money, and money was the closest thing to his soul. He looked around at
the yelling throng, one man at bay, and he achieved a certain dignity,
even in the midst of absurdity.

"This darned pigeon is wood," said he. "They are all wood, all I have
shot. This is a put-up job! It ain't fair." He turned to the young
fellow who had taken the pigeons, and who acted as referee.

"See here, John," he said, "you ain't going to see me done this way, be
you? You know it ain't a fair deal. Albert Dodd's shot clay pigeons, and
I've shot wood. It ain't fair."

"No, it ain't fair," admitted the young fellow reluctantly, with a side
glance at Doctor Gordon. Gordon made a movement, but Georgie K. was
ahead of him. James saw a roll of bills pass from his hands to Jim
Goodman's. Gordon came up to Georgie K.

"See here!" he said.

"Well," replied Georgie K., without turning his head.

"Georgie K."

"I can't stop. Excuse me, Doc." Georgie K. jumped into a light wagon on
that side of the field, and was gone with a swift bounce over the hollow
which separated it from the road. Doctor Gordon hurried back to his own
buggy, with James following, got in and took the road after Georgie K.
"He mustn't pay that money," said Gordon. James said nothing.

"I never thought of such a thing as that," said Doctor Gordon, driving
furiously, but they did not catch up with Georgie K. until they reached
the Evarts House, and he was out of his wagon.

Doctor Gordon approached him, pocketbook in hand. "See here, Georgie
K.," he said, "I owe you a hundred."

"Owe me nothing," said Georgie K. It had seemed impossible for his great
pink face to look angry and contemptuous, but it did. "I don't set up
for much," said he, "but I must say I like a square deal."

"Good Lord! so do I," said Gordon. "Here, take this money. I had Aaron
make those darned wooden pigeons. Jim Goodman has skinned enough young
chaps here to deserve the taste of a skin himself."

"He ain't skinned you."

"Hasn't he? He owes me for two wives' last sicknesses, to say nothing
of himself and children, and he's living with his third, and I shall
have to