Part 2 (1/2)

So speaking, Hank Stiger swung himself on the back of his mustang, which little beast looked all out of proportion to the deer and man mounted on him. His gun was slung over his shoulder, and there he allowed it to remain while he gathered up the reins and urged his pony forward.

Ralph was white. As told before, he was but a boy of eight, yet his life on the frontier had given him the appearance of being ten or more.

Rus.h.i.+ng in front of the mustang, he raised his gun and pointed the muzzle at Stiger's head.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”'YOU SHA'N'T LEAVE THIS SPOT UNTIL YOU GIVE UP THAT DEER, AND THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO IT!'”]

”Stop where you are!” he cried, commandingly. ”You sha'n't leave this spot until you give up that deer, and that's all there is to it!”

CHAPTER III.

A QUARREL AND ITS RESULT.

It must be confessed that Hank Stiger was badly frightened when Ralph confronted him with the loaded gun. He was naturally not an overly brave fellow, and while the boy before him was young, yet he realised that Ralph could shoot as well as many a man. Besides this, Dan was there, and he was also armed, and now had his finger on the trigger of the ancient cavalry musket.

”Don't shoot!” The words came from Dan. He could not help but admire his brother's pluck, yet he was sorry that the affair had taken such an acute turn. His caution was unnecessary, for Ralph had no intention of firing, excepting Stiger should attempt to rush by him or use the gun slung on his shoulder.

The mustang took several steps, and then the half-breed brought him to an abrupt halt. ”You're carrying matters with a putty high hand, to my notion,” he remarked, sarcastically.

An awkward pause followed, Ralph knowing not what to say, and glancing at Dan, half afraid that his brother would be tremendously angry with him over the hasty threat he had made. Yet he felt that he was in the right, and he kept his gun-barrel on a line with the half-breed's head.

”Stiger, you might as well give up the deer,” said Dan, as quietly as he could. ”It's Ralph's first big game, and of course he feels mighty proud of it. A good shot like you ought to be able to bring down lots of game of your own.”

Dan imagined that this tempered speech and side praise would put the half-breed in good humour, but he was mistaken. Stiger glanced from one lad to the other, his face growing more sullen each instant.

”This deer is mine, and you can't force me to give it up,” he muttered.

”Put down that gun, or we'll have trouble.”

”You put down the deer, first,” said Ralph, st.u.r.dily.

”It's my deer, not yours, and I won't put it down. I'm not afraid of two youngsters like you.”

Again Ralph's temper got the better of him. ”You shall put it down, Hank Stiger. You are nothing but a horse-thief, and I----”

”Ha! call me a hoss-thief!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the half-breed, in a rage. ”I won't stand that, boy. You shall suffer for it.”

”You are a horse-thief, and stole one of my father's animals last year.

Now you want to steal my deer, but you shall not do it. Dan, he's got to give it up, hasn't he?”

”Yes, he has got to give it up,” answered the older brother, seeing that matters had gone too far for either of them to back down. Dan was slow to make up his mind, but, once it was made up, he was uncompromising to the last degree.

”Supposing I refuse to give up the deer?” came from the half-breed. He spoke in a brusque manner, but there was a shade of anxiety in his tone.

”You had better not refuse.”

”You wouldn't dare to shoot at me.”

”Don't you be too sure of that,” put in Ralph. ”You must remember that father could have had you shot down for a horse-thief, had he wanted to do so. I don't want any trouble with you, but I am bound to have my game.”