ished you success, and said your home
was open to you when you returned to resume your studies. I think, in
his heart, he is proud of you, but too stubborn to admit it." As he
spoke he chanced to glance through the window of the store. "Don't look
around," he warned. "I want to tell you that Schoolcraft and a Mexican
just passed the shop, peered in at you with more than passing interest
and went on. I suppose it's nothing, though."

"It's enough to make me keep my eyes open," replied Tom, sighting his
new rifle at the great clock on the wall, which seemed to move a little
faster under the threat. "I thought they were watching me on the boat.
Armijo's vindictive enough to go to almost any length. He isn't
accustomed to having his beast face slapped."

Jarvis' jaw dropped in sheer amazement. "You mean--do I understand--eh,
you mean--you slapped _his_ face?"

"So hard that it hurt my hand; I'll wager his teeth are loose," replied
Tom, his interest on his new weapon.

"Er--slapped _Governor_ Armijo's face?" persisted Jarvis from the
momentum of his amazement.

"The Governor of the Department of New Mexico," replied the hunter.

Jarvis drew a sleeve across his forehead and carefully felt for the high
stool behind him. Automatically climbing upon it he seated himself with
great care and then, remembering that his customer was standing, slid
off it apologetically. He was gazing at his companion as though he were
some strange, curious animal.

"Eh--would you mind telling me _why_?" he asked.

"He offended me; and if I'd known then what I found out later I would
have broken every bone in his pompous carcass and thrown him to the
dogs!" His face had reddened a little and the veins on his forehead were
beginning to stand out.

Jarvis examined the clock with almost hypnotic interest. "And how did he
offend you, Mr. Boyd, if I may inquire?"

"Oh, the beast came swaggering along the street, followed at a
respectful distance by a crowd of his boot-lickers, and pushed me out of
his way. I asked him who in hell he thought he was, in choice Spanish,
and the conceited turkey-gobbler reached for his saber. The more I see
of this gun, Jarvis, the more I like it."

"Yes, indeed; and then what, Mr. Boyd?"

"Huh?"

"He reached for his saber--and then?"

"Oh," laughed Tom. "I helped him draw it, and broke it across his own
knee. He called me a choice name and I slapped his face. You should have
seen the boot-lickers! Before th