By this time Alison had gained a better understanding of the peculiarities of speech indulged in by her Texas friends. “Do you mean there is to be fighting?” she asked. Neal nodded. “They’ve fired the first shot and there has been a battle. We boys are going to help out our side.” “Oh, dear!” Alison shook her head. “Do you suppose it will last long?” “Can’t tell. It depends upon how soon we lick ’em.” “You are sure to do that.” “Sure as shootin’.” “Will there be fighting up this way?” “I reckon not, but we can’t tell so early in the game.” Alison glanced out of the door at the quiet scene before her. She shuddered as her gaze returned again to the long rifle. “I wish John didn’t have to go,” she said, “but I know he will. He’s always said he would. I’ll go find him, but I must say I wish you hadn’t come; for the first time I wish that of you, Neal Jordan.” The young man looked at her with a half smile. “I’m glad it’s the first time,” he said simply, “and I hope it will be the last time you need say that.” “What does make you men so eager to fight?” Alison asked, looking back, as she stood with her hand on the door. “Nature of the beast, I suppose,” returned Neal coolly. “It gets into the blood and you can’t get rid of it. It’s masculine, I reckon, though there’s female women who have it too.” “Yes, there was Joan of Arc, you know.” “Yes, I’ve heard of her. They ketched her and burned her. I don’t just recollect who it was did it, but I don’t think it was Injuns.” Neal gravely tried to recall his somewhat limited knowledge of the facts. “No, it was done by the French. They pretended to think she was a witch.” “So they did. Well, we did some witch-burning ourselves way back there, so we in the States can’t call the kettle black. That’s what I think sometimes when the boys go to pitchin’ into the Injuns.” “But we were never as cruel as they.” “No, but we were smart enough, big enough and ugly enough to know better than to burn women and to cut off people’s ears because they didn’t go to the same church as we did. I’m an Injun fighter from way back, but I ain’t so sure that I wouldn’t do as they do, if I wasn’t any more civilized, and if I was run off my land as they are. We’ve got to run ’em, of course, but in spite of that I reckon they can claim that there ain’t justice done every time.” Alison regarded him thoughtfully. She had heard others talk less mercifully and yet she knew no man was braver, more ready to rush into action, to lead a band against the Indians, than this same Neal Jordan. Ira Korner, too, was noted for his fearlessness, but he had not Neal’s sense of justice. “Then you wouldn’t fight now if you didn’t believe it right,” the girl said.