alignment with the rest of the arm and then, with a
sudden dropping of his own elbow, he turned the other's arm throwing all
his strength and weight into the motion. The result was ludicrous. The
rival, bent forward, his other hand on the ground, had to give way in a
hurry or have his arm dislocated. His right foot arose swiftly into the
air and described a short arc as his whole body followed it; and
quicker than it takes to tell it he was bridged much the same as a
wrestler, his arched back to the ground. Tom grinned sardonically and
with a swift jerk yanked his adversary off his balance, and as the other
sprawled grotesquely in the dust, the victor of the little tilt picked
up the glove, leaped nimbly aside and looked eagerly around for its
owner. He no sooner stood erect than he saw her with a handkerchief
stuffed in her mouth and, bowing stiffly and with sober face he gravely
presented the glove to her. She had waited, despite all her escort could
do, somewhat breathlessly watching the rescue and the short, quick
comedy incidental to it; and now, with reddened cheeks and mischievous
eyes, she took the glove and murmured her thanks. The elderly gentleman,
grinning from ear to ear, raised his high beaver, thanked the plainsman,
and then hurried his charge onto the boat, fearful of the time lost.

Tom stood in his tracks staring after them, hypnotized by the beauty of
the face and the timbre of the voice of the woman whose eyes had
challenged him as she had turned away.

The profane remarks of the wagon driver, the more picturesque remarks of
other drivers, and the vociferous, white-toothed delight of the negroes
did not soothe Ephriam Schoolcraft's outraged dignity nor help to cool
his anger, and he arose from his dust bath seeking whom he might devour.
He did not have to seek far, for a negro's shouted warning reached Tom
in time to spin him around to await his adversary. The plainsman was
cool, imperturbable, and smiling slightly with amusement.

Schoolcraft leaped for him and was sent spinning against a pile of
freight. As he recovered his balance his hand streaked for his belt, but
stopped in the air as he gazed down the barrel of the new Colt snuggling
against the hip of the younger man. It must have looked especially
vicious to a man accustomed to a single-shot pistol, or a
double-barreled Derringer, at best.

"That was no killing matter," said Tom quietly. "Don't make it so, and
don't make us both miss that