g came into his face that I never saw
before. It was a look like his father's, the old missionary.

"Yes, McLeod," he answered. "And I've hunted _you_ out. It's cost
me the loss of a whole term at college and a considerable amount of
self-respect, but I've got my finger on you now!"

The whole infernal trick burst right in on my intelligence. If I
had had a revolver, he would have been a dead man; but border
traders nowadays are not desperadoes with bowie knives and hip
pockets--

"You surely don't mean to split on me?" I asked.

"I surely don't mean to do anything else," he cheeked back.

"Then, Tom Barrett," I sputtered, raging, "you're the dirtiest cad
and the foulest liar that ever drew the breath of life."

"I dare say I am," he said smoothly. Then with rising anger he
advanced, peering into my face with his foxy eyes. "And I'll tell
you right here, Dan McLeod, I'd be a hundred times a cad, and a
thousand times a liar to save the souls and bodies of our Indians
from going to hell, through your cursed whiskey."

I have always been a brave man, but I confess I felt childishly
scared before the wild, mesmeric power of his eyes. I was unable to
move a finger, but I blurted out boastfully: "If it wasn't for your
preacher's hat and coat I'd send your sneaking soul to Kingdom
Come, right here!"

Instantly he hauled off his coat and tie and stood with clenched
fists while his strange eyes fairly spat green fire.

"Now," he fumed, "I've discarded my cloth, Dan McLeod. You've got
to deal with a man now, not with a minister."

To save my immortal soul I can't tell why I couldn't stir. I only
know that everything seemed to drop out of sight except his two
little blazing eyes. I stood like a fool, queered, dead queered
right through.

He turned politely to the girl. "You may go, Elizabeth," he said,
"and thank you for your assistance." The girl turned and went up
the trail without a word.

With the agility of a cat he sprang on to the wood-pile, pitched
off enough cordwood to expose my entire "cellar;" then going across
to Lige, he coolly took the axe out of his hand. His face was
white and set, but his voice was natural enough as he said:

"Now, gentlemen, whoever cares to interrupt me will get the blade
of this axe buried in his brain, as heaven is my witness."

I didn't even curse as he split the five barrels into slivers and
my well-fought-for whiskey soaked into the slush. Once he lifted
his head and loo