"I've seen it worked out in my part of the country," he explained sombrely. "I don't want to bother with that sort of thing. I'm a peaceable citizen. Now I've got to walk around on tiptoe all the time watching for trouble. Oh, _damn_!" "If you're afraid----" I began. "I'm not afraid," said Johnny so simply that I believed him at once. "But I'm annoyed. And of course you recognized that barkeeper." "I thought I'd seen him before, but I don't remember just where." "He's one of those fellows we fired out of our canoe down at Chagres. You can bet he doesn't love us any!" "You move along to Porcupine to-morrow," I suggested. "I can look after Yank all right. They won't bother me." Johnny walked for some steps in silence. "No, they won't bother you," he repeated slowly. He thought for a moment, then he threw back his head. "But look here, Jim," he said briskly, "you forget. I told that fellow and his friends that I was going to live in this place. I can't leave now." "Nonsense," said I. "What do you care for that gang?" "It would look like running away. No, I certainly don't intend to leave now." CHAPTER XXIX THE CHALLENGE We went out to see Yank, with the full intention of spending the evening and cheering him up. He was dozing, restless, waking and sleeping by fits and starts. We sat around in the awkward fashion peculiar to very young boys in the sickroom; and then, to our vast relief, were shoved out by Senora Morena. With her we held a whispered conversation outside, and completed satisfactory arrangements for Yank's keep. She was a chuckling, easy-going, motherly sort of creature, and we were very lucky to have her. Then we returned in the gathering dusk to our camp under the trees across the way. A man rose from a seat against a tree trunk. "_Good_ evenin', stranger," said he. "Good evening," responded Johnny guardedly. "You are the man who stuck up Scar-face Charley in Morton's place, ain't you?" "What's that to you?" replied Johnny. "Are you a friend of his?" His habitual air of young carelessness had fallen from him; his eye was steady and frosty, his face set in stern lines. Before my wondering eyes he had grown ten years older in the last six hours. The other was lounging toward us--a short, slight man, with flaxen moustache and eyebrows, a colourless face, pale blue eyes, and a bald forehead from which the hat had been pushed back. He was chewing a straw. "Well, I was just inquirin' in a friendly sort of way," replied the newcomer peaceably. "I don't know you," stated Johnny shortly, "nor who you're friends to, nor your camp. I deny your right to ask questions. Good night."