"Your tongue, Levake," returned Scott at last, "is longer than a coyote's. Why do you stand here and bellow about being insulted? What is all this noise about, anyway? These fellows," a contemptuous nod indicated the men standing around, "all know, if you don't. You've been talking loud so you could get a crowd together and advertise yourself by shooting an unarmed boy, haven't you?" The desperado broke out in fresh denials and curses, but he feared the ridicule of the Indian would bring the laughter of his admirers down on him. Nor was he keen to try a pistol duel. He remembered too well the attack he had once headed on an emigrant train that Scott was guarding, and from which the outlaws with Levake had carried away some unexpected and unwelcome bullets. Scott, now taunting Levake openly, stepped directly in front of him. But the latter waved him away. "I'll settle my differences with you when I'm ready," he muttered. "If that fellow," he added, indicating Bucks, who was making record time across the square, "behaves himself, I'll let this go. If he doesn't, I'll fill him full of lead." "When you do," retorted Scott, "remember just one thing--that I'm going to fill you full, Levake. Don't forget that." Scott stepped backward. The crowd parted to let him through and Levake walked sullenly toward the cigar store. Bucks wiped the perspiration from his forehead when he reached the station and drew a long breath. He waited until Scott crossed the square and joined him. The Indian only laughed when Bucks tried to thank him. "It is nothing," he said, "you are getting experience. Only don't tackle that man again till you give me notice beforehand." The next morning Bucks installed himself at Goose Creek. Goose Creek was a mere operating point and besides the rough wooden station, with an attic sleeping-room for the operator, boasted only a house for the section crew--six men taken care of by a China boy cook. East of the station stood an old road ranch belonging to Leon Sublette. For this, freight was at times unloaded and an Indian trail to the south led through the sand-hills as far as the Arickaree country. North of the river greater sand-hills stretched as far as the eye could reach. The long, marshy stretches of the Nebraska River lost themselves on the eastern and the western horizon and at times clouds of wild fowl obscured the sun in their flight across the sky. Dancing came down to the new station to complete the instalment of the instruments and this broke for a day or two the loneliness of the new surroundings. Indeed, there was hardly time to be lonely. The constant round of interest attending the arrival of trains with their long halts, visits from trappers living at the ranch who were always ready to talk, and occasional calls from friendly Pawnees from the south, together with abundance of time for hunting the geese and ducks, made the days go.