"But my way, understand. Don't come any Western business on me." "I'll see you again and your way. I never was beaten long at a time." "Good enough. Got through seeing me about the horse?" "I'm through. No, wait a moment. If you go back to the house and say anything about this affair, I'll try you the Western way. Do you understand?" "Oh, it's nothing to me. I won't mention it. Good-day. I'll take care of your horse." Milford went home, covered with blood. He washed himself and lay down under the walnut tree to steam in his anger. His lip was cut and his cheek was bruised. He jumped up suddenly, ran into the house and took two pistols out of a battered leather bag, but he put them back and sat down in the door to cool. The hired man came around the corner of the house. "I guess you must have found him," he said, halting with a smile and a nod. "Yes, and he was too much for me. But I'll get even with him." "That's the way to look at it. May take a long time, but it's to come round all right. I used to drive a team in Chicago. And one day I had to cuss the driver of a coal wagon, and he ups with a lump of coal and smashes my face. I was a long time getting even with him, but I got there." "Did you kill him?" "Kill him! Well, I should say not. I didn't have enough money to kill him and get away with it. I just waited, watchin' him close every time I saw him. And one day he jumped off his wagon, slipped on the ice and broke his leg. Satisfied me, and after that I turned him loose." "Bob, do you know anything about boxing?" "I used to be somethin' of a scrapper. Why?" "I want you to teach me." "Don't believe I'd be a very good teacher. But, say, I know a feller that's all right. He used to be a sort of a prize fighter and he's now got a little saloon up here at Antioch, 'bout ten miles up the road. His name's Mulligan." "All right. You go ahead with your work just as if I was with you. I'm going up there." "Sure enough? All right. When I get through with one thing I'll go at another." Milford trudged off across the fields toward the village of Antioch. At a well beneath a tree where cows stood in the shade, he stopped to bathe his face. He saw his dark countenance wrinkling in the disturbed water; he committed the natural folly of talking to himself. "You are a fool," he said, looking down into his wavering eye. "You are a fool, and you want to prove it." He smiled to think how easy it was to produce the testimony. In such cases nature cheerfully gives her deposition.