n jumped in among
them and mowed them down with his powerful blows, while Jack, hovering
like a torpedo boat around a battleship, sent in several of the telling
blows Ted had taught him during the boxing lessons at Moon Valley.

The fight was soon over, and Ben and Jack slipped quietly back into the
ballroom, leaving a well-thrashed crowd to stanch bloody noses, and
patch up swollen lips and black eyes as best they could.

Meanwhile, a diversion had been created in the hall by the joshing that
the Suggs' ranch outfit had directed toward the fiddler, who knew only
one tune, and sawed that off for a waltz, quadrilles, and two-steps,
without fear or favor.

The musician had been engaged because he was a friend of the
beneficiary, and had volunteered his services. As the ball grew more and
more hilarious the cow-punchers felt the restraint of the folks from the
fort and Moon Valley the less, and began to take it out of the fiddler,
who paid no attention to them, but kept on scraping.

Suddenly there was a crack from a revolver and the top of the fiddler's
bow was knocked off, and the playing and dancing stopped simultaneously.

There was more or less commotion, but the women did not scream or get
panic-stricken. They were used to that sort of thing.

Nobody knew who had fired the shot, but the cowboys and soldiers were
mad clear through because there was no more music to dance by.

The shot had come from the part of the hall in which the coatroom was
situated, and directly afterward two slender young fellows climbed out a
rear window, and a few moments later Billy Sudden and Clay Whipple came
calmly through the front door and joined the throng about the musician,
who said:

"Honest, folks, I don't blame no hombre fer takin' a shot at thet fiddle
bow o' mine, fer I never could make it work right. I know it was bum
music, but it was the best I could do."

Ted Strong had observed the quiet entrance of Billy and Clay directly
after the shooting, and he put this and that together. He knew that both
of them were finished musicians. Clay Whipple was an exceptionally good
violin player, and Ted had often heard Billy Sudden make a piano fairly
sing. Evidently they had got to the point where they could stand the
fiddler's music no longer, and had put a stop to it.

But for all the badness of the music the people should not be deprived
of their dance.

He hunted up the culprits, who were hovering on the outskirts of the
c