"Nor with my friend yonder?" insisted the newcomer.
"I should esteem it beneath my dignity to fight with a craven and a coward, suh!" the major saved his face.
The stranger glanced at Keith, an amused light in his eyes.
"We'll let it go at that," he conceded. "Anybody else?" he challenged, eying them.
Every one seemed busy getting ready to go home, and appeared not to hear him. After a moment he put on his felt hat and joined Keith and Ward, who were walking slowly toward the landing.
"Well," remarked a rough-looking Yankee—our old friend Graves of the Eurekas to his friend Carter—"I didn't know anything would cool off the major like that!"
"I reckon the major knew who he was talking to," replied Carter.
"Who is the cuss? I never saw him before."
"Don't you know him? I reckon you must have heard of him, anyway. He's just down from the Sierra. That's the express rider, Johnny Fairfax—Diamond Jack, they call him."
Graves whistled an enlightened whistle.