y should you kick on yours?"

"I won't stand it now. Not from any one--especially not you."

"Ahuh! Well, I'm afraid it'll stick," replied Moore, with sarcasm. "It
sure suits you. Don't you bust everything you monkey with? Your old dad
will sure be glad to see you bust the round-up to-day--and I reckon the
outfit to-morrow."

"You insolent cowpuncher!" shouted Belllounds, growing beside himself
with rage. "If you don't shut up I'll bust your face."

"Shut up!... Me? Nope. It can't be did. This is a free country, Buster
Jack." There was no denying Moore's cool, stinging repetition of the
epithet that had so affronted Belllounds.

"I always hated you!" he rasped out, hoarsely. Striking hard at Moore,
he missed, but a second effort landed a glancing blow on the
cowboy's face.

Moore staggered back, recovered his balance, and, hitting out shortly,
he returned the blow. Belllounds fell against the corral fence, which
upheld him.

"Buster Jack--you're crazy!" cried the cowboy, his eyes flashing. "Do
you think you can lick me--after where you've been these three years?"

Like a maddened boy Belllounds leaped forward, this time his increased
violence and wildness of face expressive of malignant rage. He swung his
arms at random. Moore avoided his blows and planted a fist squarely on
his adversary's snarling mouth. Belllounds fell with a thump. He got up
with clumsy haste, but did not rush forward again. His big, prominent
eyes held a dark and ugly look. His lower jaw wabbled as he panted for
breath and speech at once.

"Moore--I'll kill--you!" he hissed, with glance flying everywhere for a
weapon. From ground to cowboys he looked. Bludsoe was the only one
packing a gun. Belllounds saw it, and he was so swift in bounding
forward that he got a hand on it before Bludsoe could prevent.

"Let go! Give me--that gun! By God! I'll fix him!" yelled Belllounds, as
Bludsoe grappled with him.

There was a sharp struggle. Bludsoe wrenched the other's hands free,
and, pulling the gun, he essayed to throw it. But Belllounds blocked his
action and the gun fell at their feet.

"Grab it!" sang out Bludsoe, ringingly. "Quick, somebody! The damned
fool'll kill Wils."

Lem, running in, kicked the gun just as Belllounds reached for it. When
it rolled against the fence Jim was there to secure it. Lem likewise
grappled with the struggling Belllounds.

"Hyar, you Jack Belllounds," said Lem, "couldn't you see Wils wasn't
packin' no gun