Afterward the big man from the north came to pay his bet, but Zinn, looking up from his task of dressing the terrier’s wounds, flung the money back in the face of the stranger. Dogs ain’t the only things that fight in Sioux Crossing, he announced, and the stranger, pocketing his pride and his money at the same time, led his staggering dog away. From that time forward Blondy was one of the sights of the town--like Sandoval Mountain. He was pointed out constantly and people said: “Good dog!” from a safe distance, but only Tom Frejus appreciated the truth. He said: “What keeps Zinn from getting fight-hungry? Because he has a dog that does the fighting for him. Every time Blondy sinks his teeth in the hide of another dog, he helps to keep Zinn out of jail. But some day Zinn will bust through!” This was hardly a fair thing for the constable to say, but the nerves of honest Tom Frejus were wearing thin. He knew that sooner or later the blacksmith would attempt to execute his threat of breaking him in two, and the suspense lay heavily upon Tom. He was still practicing steadily with his guns; he was still as confident as ever of his own courage and skill; but when he passed on the street the gloomy face of the blacksmith, a chill of weakness entered his blood. * * * * * That dread, perhaps, had sharpened the perceptions of Frejus, for certainly he had looked into the truth, and while Peter Zinn bided his time the career of Blondy was a fierce comfort to him. The choicest morsel of enjoyment was delivered into his hands on a morning in September, the very day after Frejus had gained lasting fame by capturing the two Minster brothers, with enough robberies and murders to their credit to have hanged a dozen men.