The lash had scarcely fallen ere a big form hurled itself from the store platform, and bounded along the road.  It was Captain Josh who had been an interested spectator of all that had taken place.  His eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, and the heavy stick in his right hand struck the ground harder than usual as he strode up to the wagon.

“Ye coward!” he roared, coming between Rod and the irate teamster.  “How dare ye strike a little lad like that!”

“He scared me horses on purpose, an’ then sassed me,” was the surly answer.

“None of yer lyin’, Tom Dunker,” said the captain laid his left hand upon the top of the side-board, and shook it vehemently.  “I saw the whole affair, and don’t ye try any of yer lies on me.”

“What business is it of yourn, anyway, Josh Britt?  It ain’t your funeral, is it?  You git out of this, an’ leave me alone!”

“Not my funeral, eh?  It might have been one fer the lad here, though, if you had yer way.  I saw ye pull yer horses over to scare him, and when he spoke up to ye like a man, ye slashed him with yer whip.  He didn’t sass ye, not a bit of it.”

“Well, you’ll git the same, then, ye old fool,” and once more Tom raised his whip to strike.

He was not dealing with a boy now, however, but with the strongest man in Hillcrest.  Tom knew this, but in his rage he had thrown reason to the wind.  With lightning rapidity Captain Josh reached up, caught Tom by the arm, and in a twinkling brought him sprawling upon the side of the road.  With an ugly oath, the teamster tried to regain his feet, but he was helpless in the grip of the captain’s powerful arm.  He writhed and cursed, but all in vain, and at length was forced to give up the struggle, and sat panting upon the road completely cowed.

By this time several men from the store surrounded the contestants, who watched with much interest the subjection of Tom Dunker.  To them Captain Josh paid no heed, but stood glowering over his victim.  When he saw that he was subdued he let go his grip, and stepped back a couple of paces.

“Now, git up!” he demanded.

As Tom made no effort to obey, the captain leaned forward, caught him once more in his mighty grip, and lifted him to his feet.

“Stand there, ye wobbly-kneed cur!” he cried.

“I’ll have the law of ye,” Tom wailed.  “If there’s B-b-british justice, you’ll git it!”

“H’m,” the captain snorted.  “Ye talk about British justice.  Ye may thank yer stars at this very minute that the law hasn’t its grip upon ye fer tryin’ to kill a harmless boy.  But I’ll do it instead.  I’ll be the British justice, judge, lawyers, jury, and the whole dang concern combined.  Now, look here, Tom Bunker, you apologise to that youngster fer what ye did to him this mornin’.”