s than this; then, "By the Great Horn
Spoon!" he breathed, and again stomped one foot, like an angry steer.

Big Tom's smile widened.

Now, the Westerner crossed to Johnnie, bent, and with gentle fingers
held under the boy's chin, studied those welts across the pale cheeks.
"Crimini!" he murmured. "Crimini! _Crimini!_"

"Look at his chest, and his back!" Cis advised.

The cowboy lifted Johnnie forward in the morris chair, and held away the
big shirt from breast and shoulders. What he saw brought him upright
like a pistol shot, his face suddenly scarlet, his mustache whipping up
and down, and that eye of his glowering at the longshoreman ferociously.
"Caesar Augustus, Philobustus, Hennery Clay!" he burst out. "Bla-a-ack
a-a-and _blu-u-ue_!"

"And, oh, listen what _else_ he did!" Cis went on. "The uniform you gave
to Johnnie----"

"Yas?"

"_He put it in the stove!_"

One-Eye stared. "He put it in the _stove_?" he repeated, but as if this
really was quite beyond belief.

"My--my scout suit," added Johnnie, who was too worn out to weep.

"The priceless brute!" announced Father Pat.

"Yes, and all of Johnnie's books, he burned them, too," Cis added.

But One-Eye's mind dwelt upon the uniform. "He put it in the stove!" he
drawled. "That khaki outfit I give t' the boy! He burned it! And it
fresh outen the store!"

"The medal, too, One-Eye! Johnnie's father's medal! It was in the coat.
So all that's left is the shoes!"

"All that's left is the shoes," growled One-Eye. "He burned the hat, and
the coat, and--and all. After I'd paid good money fer 'em! The _gall_!
The _cheek_! The _impydence_!" He drew a prodigious breath.

"Go ahead! Sing about it!" taunted Barber.

One-Eye was in anything but a singing mood. Spurred by that taunt, of a
sudden he began to do several startling things: with a gurgle of rage,
he snatched off the wide hat, flung it to the floor with all his might,
sprang upon it, ground it into the boards with both heels; jerked off
his gauntlets and hurled them down with the hat; next wriggled out of
his coat and added it to the pile under his boots; then ran his hands
wildly through his hair, so that it stood up as straight as the hair on
his breeches stood out; and, last of all, fell to pushing back his
sleeves.

Fascinated the others watched him. Was this the good-natured, shy,
bashful, quiet One-Eye, this red-faced, ramping, stamping madman?

He addressed Barber: "Oh, y' ornery, mean, low-