“You’ll quit right now!” Father Adam still barred the way with the threatening gun.  He raised the muzzle the least shade.  “There’s this gun says you’re not going to have murder on your hands, boy; and there’s a man behind it knows how to make it stop your mad attempt.  That’s better,” he went on, as, even in his fury the younger man drew back in face of the threat.  “Say, you’ve done enough, boy.  You’ve done all you need.  He’s deserved everything he’s got, the same as most of us deserve the bad times we get.  You’ve licked him like the good man you are.  You’ve licked him without any filthy maiming, or unnecessary cruelty.  Now leave him his life.  He’ll never trouble you again.  Let it go at that.”

The calm of the man, the gentleness of his tones were irresistible.  The fury of the youth died hard, but it so lessened in face of the simple exhortation that it had passed below the point where insanity rules.

Suddenly a great, bleeding hand was raised to his mane of fair hair, and he smoothed it back off his forehead helplessly.

“Why?  Why?” he demanded.  Then spasmodically:  “Why should—­he—­get away with it?  He’s handed me a dog’s life He’s—­”

He broke off.  His emotions were overwhelming.

Father Adam’s dark eyes never wavered.  They squarely held their grip on the stormy light shining in the other’s.  Laval had not stirred.  He still lay sprawled on the ground.  Quite abruptly the hand gripping the automatic pistol was thrust into the pocket of the black coat.  When it was removed it was empty.  The man took a quick step towards the half-dazed Bull.

“Come along, boy,” he said persuasively, taking him by the arm.  “Come right over to my shanty,” he went on.  “You’ll feel better in a while.  You’ll feel better all ways, and glad you—­didn’t.”  Then he paused, holding the man’s unresisting arm.  He looked down at Laval who displayed belated signs of movement.  “Get up, Laval,” he ordered, returning to a coldness that displayed his inner feeling.  “Get up, and—­get out.  Get away right now, and thank God your neck’s still whole.”

He waited for the obedience he demanded, and waiting he realised by the quiescence of the man beside him that all danger had passed.

Laval staggered to his feet.  He stood up, a giant in the prime of early manhood, but bowed under the weight of physical hurt, and the knowledge of his first defeat.  He stood for a moment as though uncertain.  Then he moved slowly towards the crowding onlookers, finally passing through them on his way to his quarters pursued by a hundred contemptuous, unpitying glances, while busy tongues expressed regret at his escape.  It was the scowl of the wolf pack in its merciless regard for a fallen leader.