and to be threatened with the law by this young preacher, whom he rather
despised anyway, seemed to paralyse his mental activities. It did not
help his self-control that he was aware that his friend was having his
fun of him.

At this moment, fortunately for the harmony of the party, their
attention was arrested by the appearance of a motor car driven at a
furious rate along the trail, and which almost before they were aware
came honking upon them. With a wild lurch the bronchos hurled themselves
from the trail, upsetting the buckboard and spilling its load.

Duff, cumbered with his gun, which he had reloaded, allowed one of
the reins to drop from his hands and the team went plunging about in a
circle, but Barry, the first to get to his feet, rushed to the rescue,
snatched the reins and held on till he had dragged the plunging bronchos
to a halt.

The rage which had been boiling in Duff, and which with difficulty had
been held within bounds, suddenly burst all bonds of control. With
a fierce oath he picked up the gun which he had thrown aside in his
struggle with the horses, and levelled it at the speeding motor car.

"For God's sake, Stewart, stop!" shouted Bayne, springing toward his
friend.

Barry was nearer and quicker. The shot went off, but his hand had
knocked up the gun.

"My God, Stewart! Are you clean crazy!" said Bayne, gripping him by the
arm. "Do you know what you are doing? You are not fit to carry a gun!"