g, and you haven't held up even that. You've
shirked and loafed every chance you've had. This has got to stop. And
there will be no more of this coming in at all hours of night."

"I'll come in when I like and go where I like," Turkey declared
defiantly, "and I'd like to see you stop me."

"You will see it," Angus told him grimly. "You ought to be ashamed of
yourself. You've burnt up our stack--"

"You're a liar!" Turkey cried hotly. "Don't you tell me that again!"

"Tell you again!" Angus said contemptuously. "I'll not only tell you
again, but for two pins I'd hand you something to make you remember it."

"Then fly at it!" Turkey cried, and struck him in the face.

For an instant Angus was so surprised that he did nothing at all. Then,
taking another blow, he caught his brother by wrist and shoulder and
slammed him back against the wall with a force which shook the frame
building. He was white-hot with anger, and all that restrained him was
fear--fear that if he once lost grip of himself he would go too far. As
he held the boy pinned and helpless he fought his fight and won it. His
grip relaxed and he stepped back.

"Don't ever do that again, Turkey," he said quietly.

Turkey, freed, stared at him. "I called you a liar and hit you twice."

"I know it," Angus returned impatiently. "And I could beat you to a
froth, and you know it. I don't want to start--the way I'm feeling.
That's all."

"Then I'm sorry I hit you," Turkey conceded. "But all the same, I didn't
fire the stack."

"We won't talk about it."

"Yes, we will. If you think I did, I'm pulling out."

"You'll do as you please," Angus said coldly. "You'll come back mighty
soon."

"Don't fool yourself," Turkey retorted. "I'm sick of this dam' place,
and working day in and day out."

"I've told you what I think of your work. If you're sick of it I'm just
as sick of coddling you along. Can't you get it through your head that
you're almost a man?"

"Yes," Turkey returned, "and I'm going where I'll be treated like one."

"Then you'll have to change a lot," Angus informed him. "When you behave
like one you'll be treated like one, here or anywhere else. Till you do
that, you won't. And here it is cold for you, Turkey, with no trimmings:
You may go to the devil if you like; but you can't stay on this ranch
and do it, because I won't stand for it."

And so, at last, the issue between the brothers, so long pending, lay
clear and sharply defined. There wa