in' for a while--except in his
stommick."

"How did I get here?" asked Peter.

"I hauled you into the bush as soon as I got a chance--in the
confusion--and gradually, got you back in here. But I think they're
lookin' for us, so we'd better get a move on soon as you're fit enough."

"Where's Jesse?"

"Beat it, I reckon. Haven't seen him."

"I see." And then, "Brierly, I'm obliged to you. I'll try to make it up
to you for this."

"You needn't bother. I'm for you. You can't let a lot of roughnecks put
it over on you like this."

"No--I can't--I can't," muttered Peter.

"I wish we had a bunch of the boys I was with over in France down here.
There's a few up in May's Landing who'd clean this lot up in no time."

"I wish we had them." Peter straightened with some difficulty and rose
to a sitting posture as the thought came to him. "I've got to get to the
'phone, Brierly."

"No. I wouldn't advise that--not here. Those roughnecks are between us
and the office--in the office too, I reckon, by this time. It wouldn't
be safe. Who were you goin' to 'phone to?"

"May's Landing--the Sheriff. I'm going to see this thing through."

"Righto! And I'm with you to a fare-ye-well. But it's got to be managed
different. They'll beat you to death if you show up now. It was Yakimov
that shot at you. He's after you. You were armed. It's a wonder you
didn't shoot him down." And then, with some hesitation, "Say, Mr.
Nichols. You ain't really the Grand Duke Peter, are you?"

Peter smiled. "What's left of him--I am. This man Yakimov is an agent of
Trotzky."

Brierly whistled softly between his teeth. "I reckon _they_ want to get
you, don't they?"

Peter nodded. "But they won't--not yet."

They held a brief council of war and in a moment on hands and knees
were making their way through the underbrush in the general direction of
Black Rock. Behind them they heard rough laughter and an occasional
outburst of song which proclaimed that new supplies of whisky had been
unearthed and that the anarchy which Yakimov so much desired now
prevailed. After a while, Peter managed to get to his feet and moved on
at a greater speed. He had only been stunned by Shad's blow--a part of
the force of which he had caught on his arm. The arm was still numb and
his head thumped, but as he went on in the cool air his brain cleared
and he found it possible to plan with some definiteness. Brierly knew
the sheriff at May's Landing. There was nothing his fr