em. Each knew that civilities would be
superfluous and out of place. They simply met as two things of primeval
creation might meet, and the feelings which governed each of them in
that moment were wholly savage. In every one this old strain is running:
animal first, then soul, and mind, and heart. Mere being first; then
civilization, with its accessories of education and refinement. Two
animals met between the cedars; the mask had been flung aside. They had
come face to face moved entirely by the world-old battle lust. The one
naturally evil; the other made so because he knew that in some way the
woman he loved had been mistreated and abused. Words were out of place
and unnecessary, but a sense of right and decency crept into Glenning's
seething brain, and made him speak.

"I want to apologize for striking you on the street in Macon."

The sentence was cold as ice, and formal. There was no feeling in it.
The man to whom it was addressed stood with arms hanging loosely at his
sides, his face sullen and crafty. He did not reply.

"You know I had to do it," went on the steel-like voice. "I regret the
necessity more than I apologize for the blow. You deserved that. Let it
pass."

Marston spoke.

"What in the devil do you want here? Begone, before I put the dogs on
you!"

"I am here to give you a thrashing you won't forget as long as you live!
You are a coward and a cur!"

The stinging words brought no added colour to Marston's face. They did
not hurt him; his sensibilities were hardened, and were difficult to
reach. But he cast an involuntary look of longing towards the revolver
lying partly concealed in the long grass a rod or more away. The sombre
eyes watching him with hawk-like intentness noticed the glance, and
instantly turned in the same direction. Glenning saw.

"Don't you wish you had that in your hand?" he said. "I know you haven't
one on your person, or you would have shot me before now. To relieve you
of any apprehension I don't mind telling you that I am totally unarmed.
How did that come there?"

He nodded abruptly in the direction of Julia's revolver.

"I don't see that I'm in a witness box!" Marston answered, viciously.

"Take comfort," retorted Glenning, evenly. "You will be if you live long
enough. We are wasting time and bandying words to no purpose," he
resumed briskly. "I met a young lady coming from your house in evident
distress a few moments ago. She was riding hard and she was scared. D