“I couldn’t do that, Bryce.  He has you whipped—­and he is not merciful to the fallen.  You’ll have to—­surrender unconditionally.”  Again she laid her little hand timidly on his wounded forearm.  “Please give up, Bryce—­for my sake.  If you persist, somebody will get killed.”

“I suppose I’ll have to,” he murmured sadly.  “I dare say you’re right, though one should never admit defeat until he is counted out.  I suppose,” he continued bitterly, “your uncle is in high feather this morning.”

“I don’t know, Bryce.  He left in his motor for San Francisco about one o’clock this morning.”

For an instant Bryce Cardigan stared at her; then a slow, mocking little smile crept around the corners of his mouth, and his eyes lighted with mirth.

“Glorious news, my dear Shirley, perfectly glorious!  So the old fox has gone to San Francisco, eh?  Left in a hurry and via the overland route!  Couldn’t wait for the regular passenger-steamer to-morrow, eh?  Great jumping Jehoshaphat!  He must have had important business to attend to.”  And Bryce commenced to chuckle.  “Oh, the poor old Colonel,” he continued presently, “the dear old pirate!  What a horrible right swing he’s running into!  And you want me to acknowledge defeat!  My dear girl, in the language of the classic, there is nothing doing.  I shall put in my crossing Sunday morning, and if you don’t believe it, drop around and see me in action.”

“You mustn’t try,” protested Shirley.  “Rondeau is there with his crew—­and he has orders to stop you.  Besides, you can’t expect help from the police.  Uncle Seth has made a deal with the Mayor,” Shirley pleaded frantically.

“That for the police and that venal Mayor Poundstone!” Bryce retorted, with another snap of his fingers.  “I’ll rid the city of them at the fall election.”

“I came prepared to suggest a compromise, Bryce,” she declared, but he interrupted her with a wave of his hand.

“You can’t effect a compromise.  You’ve been telling me I shall never build the N.C.O. because you will not permit me to.  You’re powerless, I tell you.  I shall build it.”

“You shan’t!” she fired back at him, and a spot of anger glowed in each cheek.  “You’re the most stubborn and belligerent man I have ever known.  Sometimes I almost hate you.”

“Come around at ten to-morrow morning and watch me put in the crossing—­watch me give Rondeau and his gang the run.”  He reached over suddenly, lifted her hand, and kissed it.  “How I love you, dear little antagonist!” he murmured.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t oppose me,” she protested softly.  “I tell you again, Bryce, you make it very hard for me to be friendly with you.”

“I don’t want to be friendly with you.  You’re driving me crazy, Shirley.  Please run along home, or wherever you’re bound.  I’ve tried to understand your peculiar code, but you’re too deep for me; so let me go my way to the devil.  George Sea Otter is outside asleep in the tonneau of the car.  Tell him to drive you wherever you’re going.  I suppose you’re afoot to-day, for I noticed the Mayor riding to his office in your sedan this morning.”