"Furthermore, this college dude, that you are talking about as though he were a water-logged jill-poke, was something in the football line when he was in college--I don't know what, for I don't know anything about such foolishness--but, anyway, from what I hear, it was up to him to break the most arms and legs, and he did it, I understand. This is only in advice, MacLeod--only in advice," he cried, flapping a big hand to check impatient interruption. "You saw when Tommy Eye, the drunken fool, fell under the train at the junction to-day, as he is always doing, that feller Wade picked him up with one hand and lugged him like a pound of sausage-meat--saved the fool's life, and didn't turn a hair over it. So, talk a little softer about killing, my boy, and, best of all, wait till you find out that he wants the girl or the girl wants _you_!" He walked down the hill. "Go to blazes with your advice, you old fool!" growled MacLeod, under his breath. "He's lookin' for it; he's achin' for it! He gave me a look to-day that no man has given me in ten years and had eyes left open to look a second time. He'll get it!" As he turned to follow his employer he saw the recumbent Tommy, and went out of his way far enough to give him a vicious kick. "Get onto the wagons, you rum-keg, or you'll walk to Castonia!" "Be jigged if I won't walk!" groaned Tommy, surveying the retreating back of the boss with sudden weak hatred. "So there was a man who saved my life to-day when I didn't know it! And there was another man who kicked me when I did know it! It's the chaney man he's after, and the chaney man was good to me! I'll make a fair fight of it if my legs hold out, and that's all any man could do." The horses were still munching fodder, and the gladiators, thankful for an excuse to stop the fray, were stupidly listening to a harangue by the Honorable Pulaski, who was explaining what would be allowed and what would not be allowed in his camps. Tommy Eye ducked around the bushes and took the road with a woodsman's lope, his wobbly knees getting stronger as the exercise cleared his brain. A woodman's lope is not impressive, viewed with a sprinter's eye. Nor is a camel's stride. But either is a great devourer of distance. So it happened that Tommy Eye, sweat-streaked and breathing hard, caught up with the sluggish Castonia stage while it was negotiating the last rock-strewn hill a half-mile outside the settlement. Dwight Wade, time-keeper of the Busters, heard the stertorous puffing, and looked around to see Tommy Eye clinging to the muddy axle and towing behind. Tommy divided an amiable and apologetic grin between Wade and the girl beside him. "I'm only--workin' out--the--the budge!" Tommy explained, between the jerks of the wagon. "Don't mind me!" Down the half-mile of dusty declivity into Castonia, the only smooth road between the railroad and the settlement, the stage made its usual gallant dash with chuckling axle-boxes and the spanking of splay hoofs.