Bucks ventured to urge that he intended no insult. "Don't insult me!" bellowed Levake in violent tones. Again Bucks attempted to protest. It was useless. Levake insisted with increasing wrath upon hugging the insult to himself, while Bucks struggled manfully to get it away from him. And as Levake's loud words did not attract as much attention up and down the street as he sought, he stamped about on the sidewalk. Bucks's efforts to pacify him made matters momentarily worse. Meantime a crowd such as Levake desired had gathered and Bucks found himself a target for the outlaw's continued abuse, with nobody to take his part. Moreover, the expressions on the faces about him now made him realize his peril quite as much as anything in Levake's words. It was becoming painfully evident that the onlookers were merely waiting to see Levake shoot him down. "No man in Medicine Bend can insult me and live," cried Levake, winding up a tirade of abuse. "I'm known from one end of this street to the other. Nobody can spread lies in it about me." He drew and flourished a revolver as he spoke. None in the crowd interfered with so much as a word. But even before the outlaw had finished what he was saying, a man of medium size and easy manner elbowed his way quietly through the circle of spectators, and, taking Bucks by the arm, drew him back and faced Levake himself. It was Bob Scott. "What's all this about, Levake?" demanded Scott gently. Levake had no alternative but to turn his wrath upon the Indian scout. Yet those who knew him perceived that it was done without much stomach for the job. Instead of growing momentarily greater the violence of his abuse now grew steadily less, and the thunder in his tones rolled further and further from the subject. Half-turning to Bucks, Scott laid his hand on his arm again. "Excuse me," said he, deliberately and quietly, "but you are wanted quick at the station. They are waiting for you. Go right along, will you?" Only too glad to get away and comprehending Scott's ruse, Bucks exclaimed, "Why, of course, certainly," and stepping quickly into the crowd walked away. Turning again to Levake, Scott made no effort to check the torrent of his words. In consequence, the gambler found himself embarrassed by the prospect of talking himself out. This would not have been so bad except that his circle of admirers would, when he stopped talking, expect him to do something and he was now at a loss to decide just what to do. To shoot down Bucks was rather a different matter from a pistol duel with Scott. None of the street loafers about the two men knew Scott, nor did any of them know that Levake had a prudent respect for Scott's trigger. As for Scott himself, a smile of contempt gradually covered his face as he listened to Levake's outbreak. He only waited patiently for the moment, which he knew must come, when Levake should cease talking.