"Well," agreed Pete, rising, "then I'll go over to the barn 'nd sleep with the horse." "Aren't you afraid he'll step on you?" asked Nat, amused. "Maybe he will," Pete replied fairly, "but I'd ruther risk that 'n m' wife." He swerved and lurched toward the door. "Thanks, doc, 'nd g'night," he mumbled, and incontinently collided with Roland Barnette. Roland was working under a full head of steam, apparently; his naturally sanguine complexion was several shades darker than the normal, and he was seething with repressed emotion--excitement, anticipated triumph, jealousy, envy and hatred: all centring upon the hapless head of Nat Duncan. Plunging along with his head down, his thoughts wholly preoccupied with his grievance and its remedy, he bumped into Willing and cannoned off, recognising him with an angry growl. The result of this was to stay Pete's departure; he grasped the frame of the door and steadied himself, glaring round at the aggressor. "'Lo, Roland," he said, focussing his vision. "Whash masser?" Roland disregarded him entirely. "Say, you!" he snorted, catching sight of Nat. "I want to see you." "Oh?" Nat drawled exasperatingly. He had never had much use for Roland, and now with hidden joy he read the signs of passion on the boy's inflamed countenance. Happy he would be, thought Nat, if Roland were to be delivered into his hands that night. He owed the world a grudge, just then, and needed nothing more than an object to wreak his vengeance upon. "Well, I'll stake you to a good long look," he added sweetly. "Ah-h! don't you try to be so funny; you might get hurt." Pete seemed to be suddenly electrified by Ro-land's matter. "Here!" he interposed. "Whajuh mean by that?" And relinquishing his grasp on the door, he reeled between the two and thrust his face close to Roland's. "Who're you talkin' to, an'way?" he demanded, truculent. Nat stepped forward quickly and grabbed Pete's arm. "That's all right, Pete," he soothed him. "Don't get nervous. Roly won't hurt anybody." The diminutive stung Roland to exasperation. "Why, damn you----!" he screamed, and promptly became inarticulate with rage. "Ah! ah! ah!" Nat wagged a reproving forefinger. "Naughty word, Roly! Careful, or you'll sour your chewing gum." "Now, say! Do you think----" At this juncture Pete drowned his words with an incoherent roar, having apparently reached the conclusion that the time had now arrived when it would be his duty and pleasure to eat Roland alive. Nat saved the young man by the barest inch; he grappled with Pete and drew himself aside just in time. "Steady, Pete!" he said quietly. "Steady, old man. Let Roland alone." "Awrh, I ain't 'fraid of him!" spluttered Pete. "Neither am I. Get out, won't you, and leave him to me." "Aw'right." Pete became more calm. "I'll leave him 'lone, but all the same I wan' it 'stinctly un'erstood I kin lick any man in town 'ceptin' m' wife. G'night, everybody."