with the glint of steel
that bore out the inference of the tied holsters.

The newcomer dropped his reins on his pony's neck, eased himself to an
attitude of attention, and looked down gravely on what was taking
place. He saw over the heads of the bystanders a tall, muscular,
wild-eyed man, hatless, his hair rumpled into staring confusion, his
right sleeve rolled to his shoulder, a wicked-looking nine-inch knife
in his hand, and a red bandana handkerchief hanging by one corner from
his teeth.

"What's biting the locoed stranger?" the young man inquired of his
neighbour.

The other frowned at him darkly.

"Dare's anyone to take the other end of that handkerchief in his teeth,
and fight it out without letting go."

"Nice joyful proposition," commented the young man.

He settled himself to closer attention. The wild-eyed man was talking
rapidly. What he said cannot be printed here. Mainly was it
derogatory of the southern countries. Shortly it became boastful of
the northern, and then of the man who uttered it.

He swaggered up and down, becoming always the more insolent as his
challenge remained untaken.

"Why don't you take him up?" inquired the young man, after a moment.

"Not me!" negatived the other vigorously. "I'll go yore little old
gunfight to a finish, but I don't want any cold steel in mine. Ugh! it
gives me the shivers. It's a reg'lar Mexican trick! With a gun it's
down and out, but this knife work is too slow and searchin'."

The newcomer said nothing, but fixed his eye again on the raging man
with the knife.

"Don't you reckon he's bluffing?" he inquired.

"Not any!" denied the other with emphasis. "He's jest drunk enough to
be crazy mad."

The newcomer shrugged his shoulders and cast his glance searchingly
over the fringe of the crowd. It rested on a Mexican.

"Hi, Tony! come here," he called.

The Mexican approached, flashing his white teeth.

"Here," said the stranger, "lend me your knife a minute."

The Mexican, anticipating sport of his own peculiar kind, obeyed with
alacrity.

"You fellows make me tired," observed the stranger, dismounting. "He's
got the whole townful of you bluffed to a standstill. Damn if I don't
try his little game."

He hung his coat on his saddle, shouldered his way through the press,
which parted for him readily, and picked up the other corner of the
handkerchief.

"Now, you mangy son of a gun," said he.

CHAPTER THREE

THE AGREEMENT