only among brutes."

"That's the only place I expect to use it," Vic retorted,
tightening his grip. "No time for words now.
The honor of Sunrise as well as my honor is at stake, and it's
my right to play in this game, because I have broken no laws.
I may have no culture except that of a prairie claim;
and I may be poor, and, therefore, presumptuous in daring
to mention Elinor Wream's name to you. But"--the brown eyes
were a blazing fire--"nobody can tell me that any man must rescue
a girl from me to save her reputation, nor that any dishonor
belongs to me because of little Bug Buler. Uncultured, as I am,
I have the culture of a courage that guards the helpless;
and ill-bred, as I may be, I have a gentleman's honor wherever
a woman's need calls for my protection."

Vic's face was ashy, for his anger matched his love,
and both were parallel to his wonderful physique and endurance.
In his fury, the temptation to throttle the man who had wronged
him was gaining the mastery.

"Vic, oh, Vic, they're waiting for you. Turn on!
Don't hurt him, Vic." Bug Buler's pleading little voice broke
the momentary stillness.

Vic's hand fell nerveless, and Burgess staggered back.

"Was n't you dood to Vic? He would n't hurted you. He never hurted me."
The innocent face and gentle words held a strange power over each
passion-fired man before him.