to take me under your protection," said the
young engineer to Sandy. He made hard going of the last word but shot it
out with a snap that left his jaw advanced. Sandy told himself that he
liked the clean-cut, well-set-up Westlake.

"Shucks," he answered, "I reckon you w'udn't have much trubble
protectin' yo'self, providin' terms was any way nigh even. That Roarin'
Russell throwed down on you, figgerin' you packed no gun, seein' there
was none in sight.

"I sabe that kind of hombre. Since he was knee-high he's always had an
aidge on most folks, 'count of his size an' weight. But that ain't
enough, he's got to have somethin' on the other man 'fo' he tackles him.
He plays all his games with an ace in a hold-out. Which shows him fo' a
man who figgers he ain't equal to tacklin' another 'thout he knows he's
got the best of it. He thinks he's one hell of a wrastler an'
rough-an'-tumble man but, if he ever mixes with Mormon, it's goin' to be
a bull an' b'ar affair--an' Mormon'll do the tossin'."

Westlake looked somewhat dubiously at Mormon's girth.

"Don't jedge a man by the size of his waistband," said Sandy. "Mormon's
fooled mo'n one. He's hog fat, to look at, but if you was to skin him
you'd find mighty li'l' fat an' a heap of muscle. Got flesh like an
Injunrubber ball, has Mormon. Minute Roarin' Russell finds he ain't got
a walkover he'll begin to quit. That sort does, ninety-nine out of a
hundred. The yaller jest natcher'ly oozes out of 'em. How'd your fuss
come to staht?"

"A man was showing Russell and some others a piece of quartz picked up
round here. It had nothing in it but some mica and galena, but Russell
had given it as his opinion that it was the gold-bearing rock of the
region. I told them I thought they would find that in the porphyry and
Russell asked me what the hell I knew about it? That's how it started. I
don't know how it would have finished if you hadn't taken a hand and
said I was a friend of yours. That saved my face. I came to the strike
because I thought there would be a chance of getting in on the ground
floor in new diggings and I hated to be driven out of it by having to
dance for a bully and a bully's crowd. I don't know that I _would_ have
danced. It's hard to weigh the odds when a gun has been fired at you,
but I figured he wouldn't shoot to kill."

"Might have crippled you," said Sandy. "If I'd been you I'd have
danced."

"You would?"

"I sure would. No sense in argy'in' with a gun