u stay
here? Good land o' Goshen!" shouted Zeke, jumping up, spreading out his
feet and flourishing both his huge fists in the air, "of all the fool
notions that ever a livin' boy got into his head--"

"That'll do, Zeke," interrupted George with a laugh. "I have heard that
a thousand times, more or less, already. You will bid me good-bye when
I get ready to go, I suppose?"

"I s'pose I won't do nothin' of the kind," exclaimed Zeke. "Of all the
fool notions that ever a livin' boy--"

"I understand. Come here and pack my clothes-bag for me; you can do it
better than I can."

"I won't. Them things is goin' to hang you higher'n the moon the first
you know," said Zeke, scowling savagely at the elegant Mexican costume
which George lifted from the bed. "Don't you never go 'crost the river
with them duds on, 'cause if you do Fletcher'll string you up for a
spy."

"Not in peace-times, I guess," answered George.

"What odds does it make to sich as him whether it's peace-times or not?
You'll see."

"Well, he will have to catch me before he hangs me. Go and tell the cook
that I am getting tired of waiting for breakfast."

"I won't; I won't never do nothin' for you no more, nor say another word
to you, nuther."

"I am sorry you feel so bad about it," said George as he proceeded to
pack his clothes away in a canvas bag he had provided for that purpose;
"but the thing is done, and it can't be undone."

"I don't care if the Greasers come over here next full moon an' steal
every huf an' horn you've got," exclaimed the angry herdsman.

"I do," replied George; "I don't want them to do anything of the kind. I
don't want them to steal another steer from me or anybody else, and that
is the very reason I became a scout. Our troops are going to teach those
fellows to stay on their own side of the river, and I am going to help
them do it."

"There's enough without you," growled Zeke.

"Suppose that everybody thought so; where would we get the men to fight
our battles?--What in the world is that?"

For just then there was a terrific uproar on the porch. Above the
stamping of heavy boots and hoarse but subdued ejaculations of rage,
such as men sometimes utter when they are engaged in a fierce struggle,
arose the voice of one who spoke in pleading accents, but whose words
suddenly ceased with a kind of gasping sound, as if his throat had been
seized by a strong hand. Zeke sat up on his chair and looked at George,
whose face expr