His eyes blazing with fury, Clark Jennings crouched low, and then reaching back drew a revolver from his hip. He aimed it full at Rob, but simultaneously a strange thing happened. Rob was seen to dart forward, diving right under the leveled pistol. The next instant the weapon was spinning through the air. It landed with a thump in the middle of the dusty road. But Clark Jennings didn't see it, for the excellent reason that at that precise moment he was lying flat on his back on the hotel veranda. Before his eyes swam a whole galaxy of constellations. Over him stood Rob, with flushed face and clinched fists. CHAPTER II. NEWS OF THE MOQUIS. "Wow!" yelled the onlookers, as Clark's body struck the floor with a resounding thwack. Jess was in an agony of excitement over the sudden downfall of his friend. He was just about to hurl himself upon Rob when a sudden detaining arm fell on his with a heavy pressure. "Hold on there. We want fair play." It was Merritt Crawford who spoke, and Jess sullenly dropped his belligerent look. Somehow, the happenings of the last few seconds had altered the aspect of the tenderfeet materially in the eyes of the two young cow-punchers. "I'll fix you," growled Clark furiously, scrambling to his feet. "Why did you let him get up?" asked Tubby, his round cheeks glowing with excitement. "Because I want to give him plenty of rope," said Rob, a grim look creeping over his usually pleasant face. A sudden furious onrush on the part of Clark prohibited further conversation. "Go in and eat him up, Clark!" shouted a lanky, long-legged cow-puncher, one of several who had been attracted by the rumpus. "Looks as if your friend had developed a sudden attack of indigestion," grinned Tubby delightedly, as Rob's fist collided with the advancing Clark's jaw, much to the latter's astonishment. "Never seed nothing like it," commented the landlord, somewhat less melancholy now. "Clark's the champeen round here." "He may be when he's got a gun to back him up, but not when he has to fall back on his fists," retorted Merritt. "Look out!" he yelled suddenly, as the young cow-puncher, finding that fair methods seemed to have failed, attempted a foul blow below Rob's belt. But there was no need of the warning. Rob had seen the blow coming halfway, swiftly delivered as it was. The cowardly attempt at foul tactics thoroughly enraged him. "I thought Westerners fought fair," he gritted out, gripping the astonished cow-puncher by the wrist of the offending hand. Before Clark could gasp his astonishment, his other wrist was captive.