trigger, or steps forward, will get a hole from me that no surgeon can
stop. I'm sick of your bungling ball practice! Keep back!--or, by the
living Jingo, I'll show you where a man's vitals are!"

There was a burst of laughter from the crowd, and for a moment the twins
were forgotten in this audacious speech and coolly impertinent presence.

"That's right! Now let that infernal old hypocritical drunkard, Mat
Nixon, step to the front."

The crowd parted right and left, and half pushed, half dragged Nixon
before him.

"Gentlemen," said the doctor, "this is the man who has just shot at Rand
Pinkney for hiding his daughter. Now, I tell you, gentlemen, and I tell
him, that for the last week his daughter, Mornie Nixon, has been under
my care as a patient, and my protection as a friend. If there's anybody
to be shot, the job must begin with me!"

There was another laugh, and a cry of "Bully for old Sawbones!" Ruth
started convulsively, and Rand answered his look with a confirming
pressure of his hand.

"That isn't all, gentlemen: this drunken brute has just shot at a
gentleman whose only offence, to my knowledge, is, that he has, for the
last week, treated her with a brother's kindness, has taken her into his
own home, and cared for her wants as if she were his own sister."

Ruth's hand again grasped his brother's. Rand colored and hung his head.