and swellin' up your biceps and clenching your fists up tight that
does the trick. You want to hit like there wasn't anybody there. I'll
show you sometime."

He paused inquiringly, as if to book any acceptance of this kindly
offer. No such engagements being made, Pringle continued:

"Supposin' you was throwin' a baseball and your hand struck a man
accidentally; you'd hurt him every time--only you'd break your arm
that way. That ain't the way to strike. I'll show you."

"That wasn't no olive branch I was holdin' out," stated Nueces River.
"You'll show me nothin'--turncoat!"

"It helps a lot, too, when the man you hit is not expecting it,"
suggested Anastacio smoothly. "You might show me sometime--when I'm
looking for it."

"Now what's biting you?" demanded Pringle testily. "What did you
expect me to do--send 'em a note by registered mail?"

"I'm not speaking about Applegate. That was all right. I am speaking
about your friend."

"Here; Kit's coming to life again," said Lisner.

Kitty Foy rolled over; they propped him up; he looked round rather
wildly from one to the other. His face cleared. His eye fell upon
Pringle, where it rested with a steady intentness. When he spoke, at
last, he ignored the others entirely.