there was always the chance at this season of the year that some
tourist would be within sight. Some tourist might even hear the shot.
It would be risky--too risky. Like Jack's, his rage cooled while he
busied himself mechanically with saddling his horse. After all, Hank
was not criminally inclined, except as anger drove him. He set the
pack-saddle and empty sacks on the pack horse, led his horse a few
feet farther away and mounted, scowling.

In the saddle he turned and looked for the first time full at Jack.
"You think you're darn smart!" he snarled wryly because of a cut lip
that had swollen all on one side. "You may think you're smart, but
they's another day comin'. You wait--that's all I got to say!"

It did not make him feel any better when Jack laughed suddenly and
loud. "_R-r-r-evenge_! By my heart's blood, I shall have r-r-evenge!"
he intoned mockingly. "Gwan outa my sight, Hank. You ain't making any
hit with me at all. _Scat!"_

"All right fer you!" Hank grumbled, in the futile repartee of the
stupid. "You think you're smart, but I don't. You wait!" Then he rode
away down the trail, glowering at the world through puffy lids and
repeating to himself many crushing things he wished he had thought to
say to Jack.

Jack himself had recourse to a small bottle of iodine left there by a
predecessor, painting his scratches liberally, and grinning at himself
in the little mirror because Hank had not once landed a bruising blow
on his face. After that he washed the dishes and went to the spring
for a bucket of fresh water, whistling all the way. It was amazing how
that fight had cleared his mental atmosphere.