The Pilgrim backed, eying Billy malevolently. "I never done nothing,"
he defended sullenly. "The boss'll have something to say about
this--and I'll kill you first chance I get, for shooting my dog."

"It ain't what yuh done, it's what yuh woulda done if you'd had the
chance," answered Billy, for the first time finding words for what was
surging bitterly in the heart of him. "And I'm willing to take a whirl
with yuh any old time; any dawg that'll lick the boots of a man like
you had ought to be shot for not having more sense. I ain't saying
anything about him biting me--which I'd kill him for, anyhow. Now,
git! I want my breakfast, and I can't eat with any relish whilst
you're spoiling the air in here for me."

At heart the Pilgrim was a coward as well as a beast, and he packed
his few belongings hurriedly and started for the door.

"Come back here, and drag your dawg outside," commanded Billy, and the
Pilgrim obeyed.

"You'll hear about this later on," he snarled. "The boss won't stand
for anything like this. I never done a thing, and I'm going to tell
him so."

"Aw, go on and tell him, yuh--!" snapped Billy. "Only yuh don't want
to get absent-minded enough to come back--not whilst I'm here; things
unpleasant might happen." He stood in the doorway and watched while
the Pilgrim saddled his horse and rode away. When not even the
pluckety-pluck of his horse's feet came back to offend the ears of
him, Charming Billy put away his gun and went in and hoisted the
overturned table upon its legs again. A coarse, earthenware plate,