arms at random. Moore avoided his blows and planted a fist squarely on
his adversary's snarling mouth. Belllounds fell with a thump. He got up
with clumsy haste, but did not rush forward again. His big, prominent
eyes held a dark and ugly look. His lower jaw wabbled as he panted for
breath and speech at once.

"Moore--I'll kill--you!" he hissed, with glance flying everywhere for a
weapon. From ground to cowboys he looked. Bludsoe was the only one
packing a gun. Belllounds saw it, and he was so swift in bounding
forward that he got a hand on it before Bludsoe could prevent.

"Let go! Give me--that gun! By God! I'll fix him!" yelled Belllounds, as
Bludsoe grappled with him.

There was a sharp struggle. Bludsoe wrenched the other's hands free,
and, pulling the gun, he essayed to throw it. But Belllounds blocked his
action and the gun fell at their feet.

"Grab it!" sang out Bludsoe, ringingly. "Quick, somebody! The damned
fool'll kill Wils."

Lem, running in, kicked the gun just as Belllounds reached for it. When
it rolled against the fence Jim was there to secure it. Lem likewise
grappled with the struggling Belllounds.

"Hyar, you Jack Belllounds," said Lem, "couldn't you see Wils wasn't
packin' no gun? A-r'arin' like thet!... Stop your rantin' or we'll sure
handle you rough."

"The old man's comin'," called Jim, warningly.