“Another!  Who?”

“Lucy Bostil.  An’ don’t you fergit thet.  I’ll bet she’ll raise more trouble than Bostil when she hears what Joel Creech is tellin’.  Fer she’s bound to hear it.  Van Sickle swears he’s a-goin’ to tell her an’ then beat you up with a quirt.”

“He is, is he?” snapped Slone, darkly.

“I’ve a hunch Lucy’s guessed why you punched Joel.  But she wants to know fer sure.  Now, Slone, I’ll tell her why.”

“Oh, don’t!” said Slone, involuntarily.

“Wal, it’ll be better comin’ from you an’ me.  Take my word fer thet.  I’ll prepare Lucy.  An’ she’s as good a scrapper as Bostil, any day.”

“It all scares me,” replied Slone.  He did feel panicky, and that was from thoughts of what shame might befall Lucy.  The cold sweat oozed out of every pore.  What might not Bostil do?  “Holley, I love the girl.  So I—­I didn’t insult her.  Bostil will never understand.  An’ what’s he goin’ to do when he finds out?”

“Wal, let’s hope you won’t git any wuss’n you give Joel.”

“Let Bostil beat me!” ejaculated Slone.  “I think I’m willin—­now—­the—­way I feel.  But I’ve a temper, and Bostil rubs me the wrong way.”

“Wall leave your gun home, an’ fight Bostil.  You’re pretty husky.  Sure he’ll lick you, but mebbe you could give the old cuss a black eye.”  Holley laughed as if the idea gave him infinite pleasure.

“Fight Bostil? . . .  Lucy would hate me!” cried Slone.

“Nix!  You don’t know thet kid.  If the old man goes after you Lucy’ll care more fer you.  She’s jest like him in some ways.”  Holley pulled out a stubby black pipe and, filling and lighting it, he appeared to grow more thoughtful.  “It wasn’t only Lucy thet sent me up here to see you.  Bostil had been pesterin’ me fer days.  But I kept fightin’ shy of it till Lucy got hold of me.”

“Bostil sent you?  Why?”

“Reckon you can guess.  He can’t sleep, thinkin’ about your red hoss.  None of us ever seen Bostil have sich a bad case.  He raised Sage King.  But he’s always been crazy fer a great wild stallion.  An’ here you come along—­an’ your hoss jumps the King—­an’ there’s trouble generally.”

“Holley, do you think Wildfire can beat Sage King?” asked Slone, eagerly.

“Reckon I do.  Lucy says so, an’ I’ll back her any day.  But, son, I ain’t paradin’ what I think.  I’d git in bad myself.  Farlane an’ the other boys, they’re with Bostil.  Van he’s to blame fer thet.  He’s takin’ a dislike to you, right off.  An’ what he tells Bostil an’ the boys about thet race don’t agree with what Lucy tells me.  Lucy says Wildfire ran fiery an’ cranky at the start.  He wanted to run round an’ kill the King instead of racin’.  So he was three lengths behind when Macomber dropped the flag.  Lucy says the King got into his stride.  She knows.  An’ there Wildfire comes from behind an’ climbs all over the King! . . .  Van tells a different story.”