and the blood from his cut mouth ran
across his white, bared teeth. Conniston sprang forward to follow up
the blow. But Brayley had caught his balance and was leaping to meet
him, snarling. His hard, toil-blackened fist drove through Conniston's
guard, striking him full upon the jaw. Conniston reeled, and before he
could catch himself a second blow caught him under the ear, and with
outflung arms he pitched backward and fell, striking the back of his
head upon the rough boards of the floor.

For one dizzy moment the world went black for him. And then it went
red, flaming, flaring red, as he heard a man's laugh. An anger the
like of which he had never known in the placid days of his easy life
was upon him, an anger which made him forget all things under the arch
of heaven excepting the one man with bloody fists glaring into his
eyes, an anger blind and hot and primitive. Again he knew that he was
on his feet; again he was rushing at the man who stood waiting for
him.

"Stan' back!" roared Brayley. "I ain't goin' to play with you all
day."

Conniston laughed and did not know that he had done so. He only saw
that Brayley had stepped back a pace, and that he had something, black
but glistening in the pale light, tight clenched in his hand. Crying
out hoarsely, inarticulately, he threw himself forward.

Again Brayley met him, this time the revolver in his hand thrust
before him. It was almost in Conniston's face now. Somebody cried out
sharply. Several of the men jumped from their seats and leaped out
from behind Conniston. Two or three of them slipped under the table to
crawl out on the other side. Then Conniston saw what the something was
in Brayley's hand.

"Shoot, you dirty coward!" he yelled, as he swung his arm out toward
the big six-shooter.

For one moment Brayley seemed to hesitate. And then as the two men
came together the barrel of the gun rose and fell swiftly, striking
Conniston full upon the forehead. His arms dropped like lead; the
dizzy blackness came back upon him, growing blacker, blacker; and he
fell silently, unconsciously.

It was very quiet in the bunk-house when he opened his eyes. A sudden
pain through the temples, a rising nausea, blackness and dizziness
again, made him close them, frowning. He knew that he was lying in his
bunk and that he was very weak. There was a cold, wet towel tied tight
about his forehead.

The table had been cleared away, and the cook was finishing his
dish-washi