It knocked Donald backward, but it did not fall fairly enough to inflict
serious injury. The next moment Badger was on him, and had him by the
throat.
"By heavens! I've a notion to kill you right here!" he hissed, his
fingers closing on Pike's throat.
"Don't!" Pike pleaded, gasping out the appeal.
"You told Fairfax Lee that I was drunk when I went on the _Crested
Foam_. You scoundrel! You ruffian! You sneaking coyote!"
His fingers tightened with every exclamation.
"Don't kill me!" Pike begged wheezingly. "I'll go to him and take it all
back!"
"Then you did tell him? I allow I ought to kick you clean out of your
hide, you onery varmint!"
There was no answer, and Donald Pike, apparently ceasing to breathe,
fell back as limp as a rag.
A bit of reason began to glimmer into the brain of the Westerner. Though
he had asserted that he would almost kill Pike, he did not really intend
to do anything of the kind. He merely meant to inflict a punishment
which should be in a measure commensurate with the wrong which Pike had
committed against him. But the Kansan's great rage, combined with his
humiliating experience in the campus, which had still further inflamed
him, had driven him to more than ordinary recklessness. He had been
fairly insane.
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