It was the bridle he had brought with him from the Choctaw country--an Indian article with reins of plaited horsehair--and as he had no other, it necessitated his going afoot. In this way he started from Jerry Rook's house, leaving Jerry Rook's daughter at the door, looking lovingly after and calling him to come soon back. The distance was not great; and in less than an hour after he was standing in the blacksmith's shop, a tranquil spectator to the welding of his broken bit. There was one who saw him there, whose spirit was less composed--one who had seen him entering the town, and had sauntered after at a distance, careless like, but closely watching him. This was not a citizen of the place; but a man in planter costume, who, by the spurs on his heels, had evidently ridden in from the country. In his hand he carried a rifle, as was common at the time to all going abroad, no matter to what distance, on horseback. The man thus armed and accoutred was Alfred Brandon. There were plenty of other people in the streets, and but few took note of him as he walked carelessly along. No one noticed the lurid light in his eye, nor the tight contraction of his lips that spoke of some dangerous design. Much less were these indications observed by the man who was calling them forth. Standing beside the blacksmith's forge, quietly watching the work, Pierre Robideau had no thought of the eyes that were upon him, nor did he even know that Brandon was in the town. Little dreamt he at that moment how near was a treacherous enemy thirsting for his blood. Brandon's design was to pick a quarrel with the stranger, and before the latter could draw in his defence, shoot him down in his track. In this there would be nothing strange for the streets of Helena, nor anything very reprehensible. Pierre was armed with knife and pistol, but both were carried unseen. All at once the planter appeared to recoil from his purpose, and looking askant, he spent some time in surveying his intended victim, and as if calculating the chances of a rencontre. Perhaps the stalwart frame and strong vigorous arms of the _ci-devant_ gold-seeker rendered him apprehensive about the issue, and caused him to change his resolution. The protruding breast of Pierre Robideau's coat told of pistol or other weapon, and should the first fire fail, his own life, and not that of his unsuspecting adversary, might be the forfeit in the affray. While thus communing with his own mind, a still fouler thought came into it, kindling in his eye with more sinister lights. Suddenly turning away, as if from some change of design, he patrolled back along the street, entered the stable where he had left his horse, and, mounting inside the stable-yard, rode hastily out of the town. STORY ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. A REVANCHE.