brought a small, but effective weapon into play. The weapon was
nothing more than a pin that held together a rent in my trousers made
the day previous. Without hesitation I pulled it out and ran it a good
half-inch into his leg.

The yell be gave would have done credit to a wild Indian, and he
bounded a distance of several feet. I was not slow to take advantage
of this movement, and in an instant I was on my feet and several yards
away.

Duncan's rage knew no bounds. He was mad enough to "chew me up," and
with a loud exclamation he sprang after me, aiming a blow at my head
as he did so.

I dodged his arm, and then, gathering myself together, landed my fist
fairly and squarely upon the tip of his nose, a blow that knocked him
off his feet and sent him rolling to the ground.

To say that I was astonished at what I had done would not express my
entire feelings. I was amazed, and could hardly credit my own
eyesight. Yet there he lay, the blood flowing from the end of his
nasal organ. He was completely knocked out, and I had done the deed. I
did not fear for consequences. I felt justified in what I had done.
But I wondered how Duncan would stand the punishment.

With a look of intense bitterness on his face he rose slowly to his
feet. The blood was running down his chin, and there were several
stains upon his white collar and his shirt front. If a look could have
crushed me I would have been instantly annihilated.