f course, if Halliday feels any
real _need_ to confer with us he can do so; we'll be right
here.--Oh--Haggard!"

The editor, in the doorway, said he would be back, and went out. He was
evidently avoiding Halliday. Judge March felt belittled and began to go.

"If you're bound for home, Brother March, I'll be riding that way
myself, presently. You see, in a few minutes Suez'll be as quiet as it
ever was, and I sent word to General Halliday just before you came in,
that no one designs, or has designed, to abridge any personal liberty of
his he may think safe to exercise." The speaker suddenly ceased.

Both men stood hearkening. Loud words came up the stairs.

"Your son stepped down into the street, Judge," said Ravenel. The next
instant the three rushed out and down the stairway.

John had gone down to see the two armed bands move off. They had been
gone but a few minutes when he noticed General Halliday, finely mounted,
come from a stable behind the hotel and trot smartly toward him. The few
store-keepers left in town stared in contemptuous expectation, but to
John this was Fannie's father, and the boy longed for something to occur
which might enable him to serve that father in a signal way and so make
her forever tenderly grateful. The telegraph office was up these same
stairs on the other side of the landing opposite the _Courier_ office;
most likely the General was going to send despatches. John's gaze
followed the gallant figure till it disappeared in the doorway at the
foot of the staircase.

Near the bottom the General and the editor met and passed. The editor
stopped and cursed the General. "You jostled me purposely, sir!"

Halliday turned and smiled. "Jim Haggard, why should you shove me and
then lie about it? can't you pick a fight for the truth?"

"Don't speak to me, you white nigger! Are you armed?"

"Yes!"

"Then, Launcelot Halliday," yelled the editor, backing out upon the
sidewalk and drawing his repeater, "I denounce you as a traitor, a
poltroon, and a coward!" Men darted away, dodged, peeped, and cried--

"Look out! Don't shoot!" But John ran forward to the rescue.

"Put that thing up!" he called to the editor, in boyish treble. "Put it
up!"

"Jim Haggard, hold on!" cried Halliday, following down and out with his
weapon pointed earthward. "Let me speak, you drunken fool! Get that
boy----"

"Bang!" went the editor's pistol before he had half lifted it.

"Bang!" replied Halliday's.

The e