"Yep, I do," Billy answered airily. "You're a recordbreaker at
rough-housin'." (Here Long's face showed pleasure.) "You ought to
have the Police Gazette diamond belt for rough-bousin' baby
buggies'. I guess there ain't a one you're afraid to tackle."

"Leave 'm alone, Charley," advised one of the young men who had
crowded about them. "He's Bill Roberts, the fighter. You know'm.
Big Bill."

"I don't care if he's Jim Jeffries. He can't butt in on me this
way."

Nevertheless it was noticeable, even to Saxon, that the fire had
gone out of his fierceness. Billy's name seemed to have a quieting
effect on obstreperous males.

"Do you know him?" Billy asked her.

She signified yes with her eyes, though it seemed she must cry
out a thousand things against this man who so steadfastly
persecuted her. Billy turned to the blacksmith.

"Look here, sport, you don't want trouble with me. I've got your
number. Besides, what do we want to fight for? Hasn't she got a
say so in the matter?"

"No, she hasn't. This is my affair an' yourn."

Billy shook his head slowly. "No; you're in wrong. I think she