d up, and
stopped a little way beyond the camp. Wallie heard it but did not look
to see whom it might be bringing, as in answer to Stott's threat he
dropped the cinch and laid his hand upon the horn.

"If you think I'm bluffing----"

For answer, Wallie pulled off the saddle.

Stott hesitated for the fraction of a second, then his arm shot out and
Wallie dropped heavily from the blow beneath the ear which Stott dealt
him.

There was a sharp cry behind him, but Wallie did not look around as,
still dazed, he got to his feet slowly, with his eyes upon his
antagonist.

"I warned you!" Stott chortled, and he put his hand behind him to
conceal the brass knuckles he was wearing.

Helene Spenceley was there; her voice had told him; but he took no
account of that in the choking, blinding rage which now controlled him.

Before Stott could use his cowardly weapon again Wallie sprang for him,
and with the force and rapidity of a trained fighter landed blow after
blow on the heavy jaw which made a fine target.

"You----horse-killer! You----braggart and cheapskate! You----shyster
and ambulance chaser!" And with every epithet Wallie landed a punch that
made the lawyer stagger.

It was not "nice" language; it was not a "nice" thing to do, possibly,
and perhaps the "soft answer" would have been better, but the time had
passed when Wallie set any store by being merely "nice," and he had
forgotten Helene Spenceley's presence, though in any event it would have
made no difference.

There was only one thought in his mind as he sat astride Stott's chest
when Stott went down finally, and that was to make him say "Enough!" if
he had to hammer him past recognition.

This did not require so long as one would have thought, considering that
person's boasts as to his courage, but, at that, Stott might well be
excused for wishing to end the punishment he was receiving. In the face
above him, almost brutal in the fury that stamped it, there was no trace
to remind Stott of the youth who had painted cabbage roses and knit
sweaters.

"Let me up!" he cried, finally, struggling under the merciless blows
that rained upon him.

"Say it!" Wallie's voice was implacable.

"'Nough!" Stott whined it.

Wallie stopped immediately, and the attorney got to his feet, sullen
and humiliated. He stood for a moment rubbing his neck and eyeing
Wallie; then with a return of defiance flung at him:

"You'll pay for this, young fellow!"

Wallie's short l