"I meant it," he cried. "You tripped me, you skunk, and Jack Hood ain't old enough to take that from no man!" Bull Hunter cast out deprecatory hands. The words of this fire-eyed fellow were bad enough, but the tigerish tenseness of his muscles was still worse. It meant battle, and the long, black, leather holster at the thigh of Hood meant battle of only one kind. It had come so suddenly on him that Bull Hunter was dazed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I sure didn't mean to trip you--but maybe my foot might of slipped out a little and--" "Slipped out!" sneered Hood. He stopped, panting with fury. That a comparative stranger should have dared to speak familiarly with his daughter was bad enough; that a blank-faced coward should have dared flirt with her, dared take her hand, was maddening. "You infernal sneak!" he growled. "Are you going to try to get out of it, now that you've seen you can't bluff me down--that I won't stand for your tricks?" Bull Hunter rose, slowly, unfolding his great bulk until he towered above the other; and yet the condensed activity of Hood was fully as formidable. There were pantherlike suggestions of speed about the arm that dangled beside his holster. The withered little man in the shadow by the kitchen door took one noiseless step into the light--and then shrank back as though he had changed his mind. "It looks to me," said Bull Hunter mildly, "that you're trying to force a fight on me. Stranger, I can't fight a man as old as you are." Perhaps it was a tactless speech, but Bull was too dazed to think of grace in words. It brought a murderous snarl from the other. "I'm old enough to be Jack Hood--maybe you've heard of me? And I'm young enough to polish off every unlicked cub in these parts. Now, curse you, what d'ye say to that?" "I can only say," said Bull miserably, feeling his way, "that I don't want to fight." With an oath Hood exclaimed, "A coward! They're all like that--every one of the big fellers. A yaller-hearted sneak!" "Easy, Jack!" broke in one of the men. "Let Jack alone," called the commanding voice of Hal Dunbar. "I saw Hunter trip him!" "But," pleaded Bull Hunter, "I give you my word--" "Shut up! I've heard enough of your talk." Bull Hunter obediently stopped his talk. A sickening quiet drew through the room. Men bowed their heads or turned them away, for such cowardice was not pleasant to see. The little man in the shadow raised one hand and brushed it across his face. "I'll let you off one way," said Jack Hood. "Stand up here, and face the crowd and tell 'em you're a liar, that you're sorry for what you done!" Bull faced the crowd. A shudder of expectancy went through them, and then they saw that his face was working, not with shame or fear but with a mental struggle, and then he spoke. "Gents, it seems like I may be wrong. I may have tripped him which I didn't mean to. But not knowing that I tripped him, I got to say that I can't call myself a liar. I can't apologize."