nk of such a girl as Dr. Fenneben's beautiful
niece, whose reputation was barely saved by old Bond Saxon on the stormy
night after the holiday. You, who are forced for some reason to care
for an unknown child. You, whose true character will soon be fully known
here--if this is what you have to say, you may go," he added with an
imperious wave of the hand.

The meanness of anger is in its mastery. Burgess had meant only to
discipline Burleigh, but it was too late for that now. The rotunda was
very quiet. Everybody was down on the field waiting impatiently for the
game to begin. Burgess was also impatient. There was a seat waiting for
him beside Elinor Wream.

"I'm not quite ready to go"--Vic's fierce voice filled the
rotunda--"because you are going to write my credentials for this game,
and you'll do it quick, or beg for mercy."

"I refuse to consider a word you say." Burgess was furious now, and the
white face and burning eyes of his opponent were unbearable. "I will not
grant you any credentials, you low-born prize-fighter--"

A sudden grip of steel held him fast as Vic towered over him. The
softened light of the dome of the rotunda, where the Kansas motto, "_Ad
Astra per Aspera_." adorned the stained glass panes, had never fallen on
such a scene as this.

"See here, Burleigh, you'll repent this unwarranted attack," Burgess
cried, trying to free himself. "Brute force will win only among brutes."

"That's the only place I expect to use it," Vic retorted, tightening his
grip. "No time for words now. The honor of Sunrise as well as my honor
is at stake, and it's my right to play in this game, because I have
broken no laws. I may have no culture except that of a prairie claim;
and I may be poor, and, therefore, presumptuous in daring to mention
Elinor Wream's name to you. But"--the brown eyes were a blazing
fire--"nobody can tell me that any man must rescue a girl from me to
save her reputation, nor that any dishonor belongs to me because of
little Bug Buler. Uncultured, as I am, I have the culture of a
courage that guards the helpless; and ill-bred, as I may be, I have a
gentleman's honor wherever a woman's need calls for my protection."

Vic's face was ashy, for his anger matched his love, and both were
parallel to his wonderful physique and endurance. In his fury, the
temptation to throttle the man who had wronged him was gaining the
mastery.

"Vic, oh, Vic, they're waiting for you. Turn on! Don't hurt him, Vic