In a furious anger he strove to get out of the car. But the girl held him. “Please—don’t—don’t—It was my fault,” she whispered, pleadingly. “Don’t let me start a fight the very first thing.”

“But—he insulted you,” burst out Cal, tensely.

“Wait! Hold on—please—I beg you,” she added, clasping his arm tight. “Oh—think how my sister will be ashamed of me!”

Cal might have been proof against her, but he saw that Merry had taken the matter in hand, and suddenly he relaxed to sink back in the car. Georgiana still clung to him.

“What’n hell’s eatin’ you?” demanded Bloom, striding to the porch steps to confront Merry.

“I’m a stranger out here,” said Merry, mounting the steps. “I’m from the East and I don’t take kindly to the remark you made. Do Arizona men talk that way about Eastern women?”

“They shore do when them wimmen have painted faces an’ bare knees like thet girl,” declared Bloom.

“But, mister, down East a little artificial color and a short skirt don’t call for insults,” averred Merry, gravely. “It’s the style. I’ve a kid sister who wears the same.”

“Wal, you an’ your sister an’ all sech as thet chicken had better stay where you belong,” said Bloom. “The West won’t stand for you. An’, stranger, let me give you a hunch. The Tonto Basin is shore West clear through.”

“Mister, I’ve met a lot of men, and with all respect to your Tonto code I’ll say no real man anywhere talks like you.”

“Say, you starved-lookin’ bag of bones!” roared Bloom, furiously. “You pipe organ, shootin’ off your mind thet way! Do you hev any idee who yore ravin’ at?”

“I’m tellin’ you, mister,” replied Merry, his casual voice so marked in contrast to the strident one. “You’re no real Westerner. You’re a poor fish. You’re a big fat stiff—a blowhard, a bully. I’ll bet you’re yellow clear to your gizzard.”

Bloom appeared suddenly bereft of reason. Utter frenzied astonishment claimed him. His face turned livid, and he stuttered like a lunatic. Something incredible had happened to him. He appeared to be looking at a monstrosity. With a slow, ponderous motion he swung back his arm.

Then Merry’s right hand shot up so swiftly that Cal could not follow it. But he saw the result. Merry’s fist stopped at Bloom’s nose—not a hard blow, but evidently peculiarly placed. Bloom’s head jerked back, and blood squirted from his nose. He let out a hoarse cry of pain. The spasmodic working of his face likewise attested to a sudden excruciating sensation. Then as he steadied himself on his feet Merry’s left hand shot out. It hit Bloom in the waist somewhere and sounded like a bass drum.