hed. His steel-muscled arms tightened about the
waist of the other. A short-arm jolt to the cheek he disregarded.

Before Durand had set himself to meet the plunge he found himself
flying through space. The gambler caught at the rail, missed it,
landed on the cinders beside the roadbed, was flung instantly from his
feet, and rolled over and over down an incline to a muddy gully.

Clay, hanging to the brass railing, leaned out and looked back. Durand
had staggered to his feet, plastered with mud from head to knees, and
was shaking furiously a fist at him. The face of the man was venomous
with rage.

The cowpuncher waved a debonair hand and mounted the steps again. The
porter was standing in the vestibule looking at him with amazement.

"You throwed a man off'n this train, mistah," he charged.

"So I did," admitted Clay, and to save his life he could not keep from
smiling.

The porter sputtered. This beat anything in his previous experience.
"But--but--it ain't allowed to open up the cah. Was you-all havin'
trouble?"

"No trouble a-tall. He bet me a cigar I couldn't put him off."

Clay palmed a dollar and handed it to the porter as he passed into the
car. The eyes of that outraged official rolled after him. The book of
rules did not say anything about wrestling-matches in the vestibule.
Besides, it happened that Durand had called him down sharply not an
hour before. He decided to brush off his passengers and forget what he
had seen.

Clay stopped in front of Kitty and said he hoped she would have no
trouble making her transfer in the city. The girl was no fool. She
had sensed the antagonism that had flared up between them in that
moment when they had faced each other five minutes before.

"Where's Mr. Durand?" she asked.

"He got off."

"But the train hasn't stopped."

"It's just crawlin' along, and he was in a hurry."

Her gaze rested upon an angry bruise on his cheek. It had not been
there when last she saw him. She started to speak, then changed her
mind.

Clay seated himself beside her. "Chicago is a right big town, I
reckon. If I can help you any, Miss Kitty, I'd be glad to do what I
can."

The girl did not answer. She was trying to work out this puzzle of why
a man should get off before the train reached the station.

"I'm a stranger myself, but I expect I can worry along somehow," he
went on cheerfully.

"Mr. Durand didn't say anything to me about getting off," she persist