--and Seagrue knew that Bob
Scott was deadly with a rifle. But Dancing was walking directly up to
him and Seagrue dared not be shamed before his own associates. He
jumped back to fire, but it was too late.

Dancing caught his wrist. Both were men of great strength, and their
muscles knotted as they grappled. It was only after a moment that the
lineman could be seen to gain. Then, as he bent the gambler's arm
back, he suddenly released it and struck the revolver out of his hand.
Seagrue, with a curse, sprang back, and drawing a knife rushed for the
second time at the lineman. Dancing jumped to one side. As he did so
he seized an axe from the hand of one of the choppers and turned again
on Seagrue. The gambler made a lunge at his throat, but as he threw
himself forward, Dancing, springing away, brought the axe around like
a flash and laid it flat across his assailant's forearm. The knife
flew twenty feet, and before the gambler could recover himself the
railroad man with one hand like a vice on his throat bore him to the
ground.

"Give me a piece of rope," muttered Dancing as Stanley ran up.

[Illustration: IT WAS ONLY AFTER A MOMENT THAT THE LINEMAN COULD BE SEEN
TO GAIN.]

Bob Scott slashed a tent guy and handed it to him. In another minute
Dancing, in spite of Seagrue's struggles, had lashed his prisoner hand
and foot. Picking him up bodily, he walked unopposed to the landing,
and to the astonishment of the spectators heaved Seagrue with scant
ceremony into a flatboat. There a trooper kept him quiet. Walking
back, the lineman brushed the dust of the encounter from his arms as
if to invite any further Sellersville champion to come forward. But
John Rebstock, the really responsible head of the place, showed no
desire to meet Dancing, and Perry, the sneak of the trio, only ranted
while Rebstock stood at a respectable distance wheezing his surprise
at the tremendous exhibition of strength. And the work of destruction
went forward.

Adjoining the Seagrue tent stood a saloon in which the men were now
ordered to demolish the stock. This renewed the excitement among
Rebstock's followers.

"Don't waste any time," was Stanley's order. "They may rush us. Knock
in the head of a keg of whiskey, pour it over the bar, and burn the
shanty."

The gamblers were, in fact, mustering for a charge on the invaders.
Before they could act the saloon was ablaze and the flames, rising
amid the yells and execrations of its owners, leape