Yet I became alert enough when the three--they were two ditch-tenders,
one old, one young, and a girl--came within earshot. For they were
quarreling. It seemed that the young man, who was plainly eager to gain
the girl, had fouled in a try to force her favor. The older man chided
him hotly.

And just when they came opposite my rock, the younger man, whose passion
had got the better of him, suddenly tripped the older, so that he fell
upon the ledge and would have fallen to his death on the rocks below had
not the girl, crying out in her terror, leaped forward and caught his
hand.

At once the ditch-tender took the lass about the waist, and strove to
pull her away. For a moment she held fast, and in that moment I,
Strokor, stood forth from behind the rock.

Now, be it known that I am no champion of weaklings. I have no liking
for the troubles of others; enough of my own, say I. I was but angered
that the ditch-tender should have done the trick so clumsily, and upon
an old man, at that. I cared not for the gray beard, nor what became of
the chit. I clapped the trickster upon the shoulder and spun him about.

"Ye clumsy coward!" I jeered. "Have ye had no practice that ye should
trip the old one no better than that?"

"Who are ye?" he stuttered, like the coward he was. I laughed and helped
the chit drag Maka--for it was he--up to safety.

"I am a far better man than ye," I said, not caring to give my name.
"And I can show ye how the thing should be done. Come; at me, if ye are