“By gracious!” exclaimed Arthur, jumping out on the floor.  “Was a gentleman ever before so insulted?  That little Yankee, Archie Winters, is at the bottom of all this, and if he don’t suffer for it, I’ll know the reason why.”

He tore the note into fragments, pitched the bundle out of the window, and walked angrily about the room, shaking his fists in the air, and threatening all sorts of vengeance against Archie and his two friends.  If he had been in his sober senses, he would have felt heartily ashamed of himself; but the note had opened his eyes to the fact that he had sadly injured his reputation, and he was angry at his companions because he had done so—­although how they could be blamed for that, it would have puzzled a sensible boy to determine.  But, after all, his case was not an isolated one.  It is by no means uncommon for boys, when they get angry, to revenge themselves upon some innocent thing.  We remember that, on a certain rainy day, several boys were congregated in a barn, amusing themselves by turning hand-springs.  One clumsy fellow, whose feet were so heavy that he could not get them over his head, became greatly enraged at his failures, and finally tried to soothe his wounded pride by whipping one of his companions.

Arthur was actuated by the same spirit.  He walked up and down his room for a long time, trying to make up his mind what he should do, and, when he was called to breakfast, he had decided upon a plan of operations, which promised to make Archie and his friends a great deal of trouble.

“I’ll be revenged upon the whole lot of them at once,” said Arthur, to himself.  “Upon Johnny Harris, for calling me a coward; upon Archie Winters, for writing me that note—­for I know he did it, although Johnny’s name does come last—­and upon Frank Nelson, for being a friend to those fellows, and for being so stuck up.  He scarcely spoke to me yesterday, and I won’t stand such treatment from any boy.  I’ll teach these backwoodsmen to insult a gentleman!”

“Well, Arthur,” said Mr. Vane, as the boy seated himself at the table, “you must have looked through a very badly-frightened pair of eyes, to make a grizzly bear out of a wolf.”

“Who told you it was a wolf?” asked Arthur, gruffly.

“One of Mr. Winters’s herdsmen—­Dick Lewis, I believe, they call him.  He came over this morning to bring your weapons and hat.”

Dick despised a coward quite as much as he admired a boy of spirit and courage, and it is certain that the story, as he had heard it from Frank and Archie, lost nothing in passing through his hands.  He first told it to Mr. Vane, as he handed him the articles he had brought, and then repeated it to one of the Rancheros; and, by the time Arthur had finished his breakfast, the occurrences of the previous day were known to every one on the rancho.  Pedro laughed when he brought out Arthur’s horse, and the herdsmen, as he rode through their quarters, exchanged winks with one another, and made a great many remarks about grizzly bears, especially concerning the one Arthur had seen the day before.  There was one man, however, who took no part in the joking and laughing, and that was Joaquin, who was just mounting his horse to drive up some stock.