at his
side. Seems to me he might be dead drunk."

"That's what he is, too."

"Then let's go in and throw a bucket of water over him and wake him
up."

"Not on your life! Then there _would_ be a funeral. I guess you had
better postpone your start till to-morrow. Only one man in Vernock can
handle Hanson after he's had a night of it, and that man's the Mayor.
Man to man, Hanson has him shaded. With a rope in his hand, the Mayor
is the best man."

Voices behind them made them turn round.

Royce Pederstone and Mayor Brenchfield were riding down the side road
as if on some definite bent. They were equipped as for a round-up.

"How do, Jim! Is this Hanson's new apprentice?" asked Pederstone,
bending over his horse and shaking hands genially with Phil.

"Glad to meet you, young man, and sorry this has happened on your
first day. Hanson only goes on the toot once in a long while. You must
just forget what you are going to see in a few minutes and think later
only of what he shows you of blacksmithing."

Brenchfield completely ignored Phil's presence.

The two men got off their horses.

Royce Pederstone turned the water on at the tap at the trough, to
which a hose was already attached. He directed the nozzle through a
broken window pane, squirting a thin, strong stream directly on the
upturned face of the open-mouthed and heavily-breathing Swede.

With a grunt the huge fellow spread himself.

The Mayor jerked off the water, then he and Royce Pederstone sprang on
their horses and took up positions at different sides of the yard.

Jim and Phil in curiosity kept their eyes glued to the dirty window.

Growling fiercely, Hanson scrambled to his feet. His usually handsome
and childlike face was contorted with rage and horrible to see. His
eyes, bloodshot and bleared, stood out wildly in his head, his teeth
showed like the teeth of a snarling puma and a foamy lather slithered
from his mouth down on to his huge, hairy, muscle-heaving chest. He
stood over six feet--a man of gigantic proportions, with every inch
of him tuned and in perfect symmetry.

But he seemed madness incarnate.

With a fierce oath, he wiped the water from his face. He staggered and
bumped into an anvil, striking his knee against the metal. He swore
again and, in his mounting anger, he seized the anvil in his great
hands, lifted it bodily from its stand and heaved it into a corner--a
feat which four strong men, at any time, would have experienced