The stranger arose from the boulder and stepped to the middle of the road. He moved with a slouching swagger, and the small black mustache midway his swarthy face was lifted slightly at the tips by a cryptic smile. Jim judged him to be five or six years older than himself, of his own height or within an inch of it, and a few pounds less than himself in bone and muscle. Jim made his observations and formed his judgments in a single glance of the eye. "I asked where ye a-goin' to so fast?" repeated the stranger. "Along this road," replied Jim. "That's as may be," returned the woodsman. "I suppose you are Mark Ducat," said Jim, pleasantly. "That's me. Ye've heered o' me, hey? Well, I reckon that's all that's needed. Todhunter's yer name, an' ye're from Hammond's. But I don't hold that agin ye, for maybe ye ain't seen through Amos Hammond yet." "I've seen enough of him to believe almost anything bad of him." "That's the way to talk! Maybe ye was figgerin' on makin' us a visit. There's quite a raft o' Ducats within a mile o' where we stand, an' they'd all be proud to know ye. Come along." "Delighted! You're very kind," returned Jim. They walked onward side by side. "Slick lookin' gun ye got there," remarked Ducat. Jim handed it over for the woodsman's closer inspection. It was greatly admired and politely returned. "Think ye can fight?" asked Mark Ducat. "Might," returned Jim. "Look-a-here, Todhunter--I don't know yer baptism name--I like ye! An' I'm goin' to talk right out to yer face, for yer own good an' my satisfaction. I can't say fairer nor that, I guess." "My front name's Jim. Fire away!" "Well, now, Jim, I'm Cock o' the River." "All right," said Jim. "But I can still walk in the woods." At that moment a girl appeared around a bend in the road ahead, within twenty yards of them. At sight of them she ran forward. They turned to her, and Jim lifted his cap. She was a tall girl of about eighteen, perhaps. In the first glance, Jim noticed her eyes more particularly than anything else about her, for they were green--green of several tints and shades, full of light and of strange depths, like clear, green water running over dark, vivid moss. "You tell 'im, Flora," said Ducat. "He's kinder pig-headed an' don't get the idee. He's for goin' around here any time he feels like it." "Mark's a dangerous man to cross," said the girl to Jim. "He's never been licked in a fight yet, and for two years he's fought every man who's come to these parts." "Sorry, but that's no reason for my staying away," returned Jim. "Then look out for yerself!" cried Mark. Jim stepped backward two paces and in the same movement tossed his gun and coat to the moss beside the track. Mark sprang at him and missed him by an inch. Mark then swung for the jaw, but his fist was deflected by a forearm that felt like wood. Then he hooked for the stomach, but landed on a thigh as hard as rock and received a nasty jab behind the ear.