Then Peter went to the house, got a basin and, fetching some water from the creek, played the Samaritan. In a while Shad gasped painfully and sat up, looking at the victor.
"Sorry," said Peter, "but you would have it."
Shad blinked his uninjured eye and rose, feeling at his hip.
"I took your revolver," said Peter calmly.
"Give it here."
"A chap with a bad temper has no business carrying one," said Peter sternly.
"Oh——." The man managed to get to his feet.
"I'm sorry, Shad," said Peter again, and held out his hand. "Let's be friends."
Shad looked at the hand sullenly for a moment. "I'll fix you, Mister. I'll fix you yet," he muttered, then turned and walked away.
If Peter had made one friend he had also made an enemy.