AN OLD, OLD FRIEND
spring's naughtiness as he watched Mary. He did not
like the stranger, anyhow, and the incident of the photograph still rankled.
"The Smart Alec," he muttered, grinning, "it won't hurt him."
The lamb backed off a little, made a run, and with its four feet bunched, landed in the pit of the stranger's stomach.
With an explosive grunt, the stranger's knees and chin came together like the sudden closing of a large pocket knife.
In spite of himself. Bowers snickered, but his grin faded at the expression which came to the stranger's face when he realized the cause of his painful awakening. It was devilish, nothing less than appalling, in its ferocity. Bowers had seen rage before, but the peculiar fiendishness of the man's expression, not knowing himself observed, fascinated him.
The lamb had backed off for another run when the stranger jumped for it. Bowers called sharply:
"Don't tech that little sheep, pardner!"
The answer was snarled through white teeth:
"I'm goin' to kick its slats in! I'm goin' to break every bone in its body."
"I wouldn't advise nothin' like that. Come here, Mary!" Bowers endeavored to speak calmly, but he was seized with a tremulous excitement when he saw that the stranger intended to carry out his threat.
"I'll pay you fer it," he panted as he tried to catch the lamb, "but I'm aimin' to kill that knot-head!"
Bowers dried his hands on his overalls and stepped inside the wagon. He returned with his shotgun.
"And I aim to blow the top of your head off ef you try it," Bowers said, breathing heavily. "That little
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