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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!"
"I'd have bust his blanked tires for him, anyway!" blustered Duff,
though his face and voice showed that he had received a shock.
"Yes, and you might have been a murderer by this time, and heading for
the pen, but for Dunbar here. You owe him more than you can ever pay,
you blanked fool!"
Duff made no reply, but busied himself with his horses. Nor did he speak
again till everything was in readiness for the road.


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