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"Carlson set his dogs on him!" Joan's voice trembled with her high scorn of such unmanly dealing, such unworthy help. "He must have; one of the dogs was shot, and I noticed Mackenzie's hand was chewed up a little. They were scuffling to get hold of Mackenzie's gun when I got there he'd dropped it, why, you can search me! Swan got it.
"That's one attended to," I said shortly. "Now is there any more of you who would like to fight this out?" There was no answer although the ring widened under the threat of my eyes, and I met sullen faces here and there. I was in no mood to take chances. "Carlson," I said, glancing back at him. "You know all these men?" "Yes, sir."
I know Eleanor told me herself that she is awfully fond of Dora Carlson, that she appreciates the way Dora feels toward her, and means to be worthy of it if she possibly can." "Then I'm sure I beg her pardon," said Katherine heartily. "Only when did she tell you that, Betty?" "Oh, back in the fall, just a little while after the sophomore reception."
Swan Carlson laughed again, and patted her shoulder, stooping to recover his board. But he flung it down again, taking the ax in its place, pushing his woman, not without some tenderness in his hand, back into the corner, throwing himself in front of her, his wild laugh ringing in the murky room, stifling from the smoke of lantern and stove.
Mackenzie was almost indifferent both to the information of his hurt and the offer for its relief. He lifted his right hand to look at it, and in glancing down saw his revolver in the holster at his side. This was of more importance to him for the moment than his injury. Swan Carlson was swinging that revolver to strike him when he saw it last. How did it get back there in his holster?
"I don't want to discourage you at the start, but I don't believe you got the mettle in you to make a flockmaster, if you want to call it that, out of." "All right; I'll help you on the hay. Before I start in though, I'd like to borrow a saddle-horse from you to take a ride down the creek to Swan Carlson's place. I wouldn't be long." "Carlson's place? Do you know Swan Carlson?"
As a result of all these preparations, Dora Carlson arrived at the gymnasium in a state of mind that she herself aptly compared to Cinderella's on the night of her first ball. She had a keen appreciation of the beautiful, and she had never seen any one so absolutely lovely as Eleanor in evening dress.
Mackenzie tried the door, finding it unlocked; pushed it open, entered. Sullivan stood outside, one mighty hand on the jamb, his body to one side under protection of the house, his head put cautiously and curiously round to see, leaving a fairway for Swan Carlson should he rise from a dark corner, shake himself like an old grizzly, and charge. "Is he there?"
Swan Carlson appeared to be a man who got along with very few tools. Mackenzie could not find a cold-chisel among the few broken and rusted odds and ends in the barn, although there was an anvil, such as every rancher in that country had, fastened to a stump in the yard, a hammer rusting beside it on the block.
"'Now, said I, turning to Master Nathan, 'permit me to say one word to you, young man. If you ever again approach, or speak to, or molest in any way, Miss Christina Carlson, I will,'-and here I drew close to him and put my finger on his breast, 'I will kill you like a dog. "With this parting shot I left the happy pair."
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