"I say," he began, "we've got that new fellow stirred up, and I wish we hadn't; I don't want any trouble." "Hang you, you little, sneaking coward!" answered Morgan, "if you didn't want trouble, why didn't you hold your tongue? Whatever fuss there is you've kicked up yourself, with your own smartness, so what are you whining about?" "Oh, well, you know my principles, Morgan; I never want quarrels with anybody; you know the old saying, 'the good will of a dog is better than--'" "Oh, shut up!" said Morgan, "you make me tired! You're a damned coward, and that's all there is about it. It's my opinion, though, in the case of this dog, that his bark is a good deal worse than his bite." Meanwhile, Houston was preparing to go to the office. "Say, old boy," said Rutherford, "hadn't I better go down with you? You may have some trouble, you know, and I shouldn't wonder if they would be two pretty nasty fellows to meddle with." "Much obliged, Ned," said Houston, "but I can take care of those two fellows, and twenty more just like them. Haight is an out and out coward, he wouldn't fight any more than he would cut his own throat. Morgan would show fight, perhaps, but I'd finish him up before he even knew where he was." "I guess I put my foot in it, saying what I did," said Rutherford, staring through his eye-glasses in a meditative manner, "but it did make me hot, their insinuating things in that way about such a nice little girl as Lyle, and before Miss Gladden, too." "There will be no more of it, that is certain," replied Houston decidedly, and he was gone. CHAPTER XI. A few moments later, Houston stepped briskly into the office. Morgan sat at his desk, sorting some mining reports, and looked up with a sullen, defiant glance, but Houston ignored him, and going to his own desk, began making preparations for his day's work. Bull-dog, who, since washing the windows, had constituted himself office boy, had built the fire and was now sweeping. Houston greeted him pleasantly, but his keen eyes at once detected trouble between Houston and Morgan, and he was immediately on the alert. After the little fellow had finished his work, and Houston supposed he had gone, he walked with a firm, decided step, over to where Morgan stood lounging and looking out of the window. Morgan turned, and angry as he was, he could not help a feeling of admiration for the splendid, athletic form standing, firm as a rock, before him. Houston's keen, dark eyes looked straight into his own, and for a moment, not a muscle of his face moved, the finely cut features might have been chiseled in stone; then he spoke, in even, measured tones, cold and cutting as steel itself: