diverted they would soon be altogether on his side, and the taunt he had
just flung out awoke a deep murmur of applause which was all that was
needed to inflame his passion to the highest pitch. The Frenchman looked
the very incarnation of fury as, springing towards Frank with uplifted
fist, he hissed, rather cried, through his gleaming teeth,--

"Coward! I teach you call me coward."

Stepping back a little, Frank threw up his arms in a posture of defence;
for he was not without knowledge of what is so oddly termed "the noble
art."

But before the blow fell an unlooked-for intervention relieved him from
the danger that threatened.

The foreman, when the shanty was being built, had the farther right-hand
corner partitioned off so as to form a sort of cabin just big enough
to contain his bunk, his chest, and a small rude table on which lay
the books in which he kept his accounts and made memoranda, and some
half-dozen volumes that constituted his library. In this nook, shut off
from the observation and society of the others, yet able to overhear and,
if he chose to open the door, to oversee also all that went on in the
larger room, Johnston spent, his evenings poring over his books by the
light of a tallow candle, the only other light in the room being that
given forth by the ever-blazing fire.

Owing to this separation from the others, Johnston had been unaware of
the manner in which Frank had been tormented, as it was borne so
uncomplainingly. But this time Frank's indignant speech, followed so
fast by Damase's angry retort, told him plainly that there was need of