Good Indian backed from him in sheer amazement. Epithets unprintable poured in a stream from the loose, evil lips. Baumberger was a raving beast of a man. He would have torn the other to pieces and reveled in the doing. He bellowed forth threats against Good Indian and the Harts, young and old, and vaunted rashly the things he meant to do. Heat-mad and drink-mad he was, and it was as if the dam of his wily amiability had broken and let loose the whole vile reservoir of his pirate mind. He tried to strike Good Indian down where he stood, and when his blows were parried he stopped, swayed a minute in drunken uncertainty, and then make one of his catlike motions, pulled a gun, and fired without really taking aim. Another gun spoke then, and Baumberger collapsed in the sand, a quivering heap of gross human flesh. Good Indian stood and looked down at him fixedly while the smoke floated away from the muzzle of his own gun. He heard Evadna screaming hysterically at the gate, and looked over there inquiringly. Phoebe was running toward him, and the boys--Wally and Gene and Jack, from the blacksmith shop. At the corner of the stable Miss Georgie was sliding from her saddle, her riding whip clenched tightly in her hand as she hurried to him. Peaceful stood beside the team, with the lines still in his hand. It was Miss Georgie's words which reached him clearly. “You just HAD to do it, Grant. I saw the whole thing. You HAD to.” “Oh, Grant--GRANT! What have you done? What have you done?” That was Phoebe Hart, saying the same thing over and over with a queer, moaning inflection in her voice. “D'yuh KILL him?” Gene shouted excitedly, as he ran up to the spot. “Yes.” Good Indian glanced once more at the heap before him. “And I'm liable to kill a few more before I'm through with the deal.” He swung short around, discovered that Evadna was clutching his arm and crying, and pulled loose from her with a gesture of impatience. With the gun still in his hand, he walked quickly down the road in the direction of the garden. “He's mad! The boy is mad! He's going to kill--” Phoebe gave a sob, and ran after him, and with her went Miss Georgie and Evadna, white-faced, all three of them. “Come on, boys--he's going to clean out the whole bunch!” whooped Gene. “Oh, choke off!” Wally gritted disgustedly, glancing over his shoulder at them. “Go back to the house, and STAY there! Ma, make Vad quit that yelling, can't yuh?” He looked eloquently at Jack, keeping pace with him and smiling with the steely glitter in his eyes. “Women make me sick!” he snorted under his breath.