“Who’s he?” demanded the Pike man suspiciously, for he had never heard of the gentleman referred to.

“He was a great hero of antiquity,” exclaimed Kellogg, “who did many wonderful feats.”

“That’s all right, then,” said the Pike man.  “If you’re friendly, then I’m friendly.  But if any man insults me he’ll find he’s tackled the wrong man.  I can whip my weight in wildcats------”

Here he was subjected to an interruption.

Mr. Bickford could no longer suppress his indignation when at a little distance he saw his mustang, which this treacherous braggart had robbed him of, quietly feeding.

“Look here, old Rip-tail, or whatever you call yourself, I’ve got an account to settle with you.”

The Pike man started as he heard Mr. Bickford’s voice, which, being of a peculiar nasal character, he instantly recognized.  He felt that the meeting was an awkward one, and he would willingly have avoided it.  He decided to bluff Joshua off if possible, and, as the best way of doing it, to continue his game of brag.

“Who dares to speak to me thus?” he demanded with a heavy frown, looking in the opposite direction.  “Who insults the Rip-tail Roarer?”

“Look this way if you want to see him,” said Joshua.  “Put on your specs if your eyes ain’t good.”

The man from Pike could no longer evade looking at his late comrade.  He pretended not to know him.

“Stranger,” said he, with one hand on the handle of his knife, “are you tired of life?”

“I am neither tired of life nor afraid of you,” said Joshua manfully.

“You don’t know me, or------”

“Yes, I do.  You’re the man that says he can whip his weight in wildcats.  I don’t believe you dare to face your weight in tame cats.”

“Sdeath!” roared the bully.  “Do you want to die on the spot?”

“Not particularly, old Rip-tail.  Don’t talk sech nonsense.  I’ll trouble you to tell me why you stole my horse on the way out here.”

“Let me get at him,” said the Pike man in a terrible voice, but not offering to get up from the log.

“Nobody henders your gettin’ at me,” said Mr. Bickford composedly.  “But that ain’t answerin’ my question.”

“If I didn’t respect them two gentlemen too much, I’d shoot you where you stand,” said the Pike man.

“I’ve got a shootin’-iron myself, old Rip-tail, and I’m goin’ to use it if necessary.”

“What have you to say in answer to this man’s charge?” asked one of the miners, a large man who was looked upon as the leader of the company.  “He charges you with taking his horse.”

“He lies!” said the man from Pike.

“Be keerful, old Rip-tail,” said Mr. Bickford in a warning tone.  “I don’t take sass any more than you do.”

“I didn’t steal your horse.”

“No, you didn’t exactly steal it, but you took it without leave and left your own bag of bones in his place.  But that wasn’t so bad as stealin’ all our provisions and leavin’ us without a bite, out in the wilderness.  That’s what I call tarnation mean.”