The man, who was not a bad fellow at bottom, gave a growl as he tossed off the tendered potion. Then he held out his hand to Eustace. "Well, Mister, I don't bear no grudge. If you'll jest say you're sorry you hit me--" "I'll say that with pleasure, Jackson," replied Eustace, as they shook hands. "And look here, if you still feel a bit groggy on your pins, jump on my horse and ride home. I'll walk." "No, thanks. I'm all right now. Besides I ain't going your way. My waggon's outspanned yonder on the flat. Good-night." "I stand very much indebted to you, Errington, for two services rendered," said Eustace as they rode towards the township. "And I'm not sure that the last isn't by far the most important." "Pooh! not at all, my dear fellow. That howling rabble wouldn't have come within twenty yards of you." "I don't know about that. The vagabonds were rather beginning to realise that twenty to one meant long odds in favour of the twenty, when you came up. But the deft way in which you smoothed down our friend with the broken head was diplomatic to a degree. I hate rows, and the knowledge that some fellow is going about day and night seeking an opportunity of fastening a quarrel upon you unawares is tiresome. Besides, I'm nothing of a boxer, and if I were should hate a shindy just as much." "I quite agree with you," said the other, who _was_ something of a boxer. "To form the centre of attraction to a howling, yahooing rabble, making an undignified exhibition of yourself bashing and being bashed by some other fellow like a couple of butcher's boys in the gutter, is bound to be a revolting process whichever way you look at it. Even the law of the pistol seems to be an improvement on it." "I think so, too. It puts men on better terms of equality. Any man may become a dead shot and a quick drawer, but not one man in ten can fulfil all the conditions requisite to becoming a good boxer. The fact is, however, I hate rows of any kind, even when only a spectator. When fellows say they like them I never altogether believe them." "Unless they are very young. But the Berserk taint soon wears off as you get on into life a bit," said Errington. "Well now--I turn off here. Good-evening." CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. "IT IS THE VOICE OF AN ORACLE."