The miner turned red as the men around him grinned.

"I was there with 'im," the other miner said. "They jumped Bert and pummeled 'im till he dropped. In the midsection."

"While you watched?" Leonov asked.

"We ain't tykin' that from no foreigners'"

The mob surged forward.

"Now that's enough!"

Frederick Durban stepped between Kinsman and Leonov to face the angry miners. "We are the guests of the Australian government," he said firmly, "and if any harm comes to us you'll all go to jail."

"What about 'im?" one of the miners yelled. "They can't go beatin' up our blokes and get awhy with it!"

"Nobody beat anybody up," Colt shouted back. "The guy called me a nigger and I punched him in the gut. He folded like a pretzel. One punch." 166

"That's a bloody lie! The other one held me and the black barstard kicked me, too!"

Very calmly, Durban took the pipe from his mouth and said, "All right, let's settle this here and now. But not with a riot."

"How then?"

"There's an old custom where I come from . . . mining country, back in Colorado." He turned slightly back toward Kinsman and winked. "When two men have a difference of opinion, they settle it fairly between themselves. Do you two want to fight it out right here . . . Marquess of Queensberry rules?"

Colt shrugged, then nodded.

"Oh, no, you don't!" screeched the miner. "He's a bloody tryned killer. A soldier. Probably a karate expert . . . chops bricks with 'is bare hands an' all that."

Durban scowled from under his shaggy brows. "Very well then. Suppose / represent the American side of this argument. Would you be afraid to fight me?"

"You? You're an old man!"

"I may be almost seventy," Durban said, stuffing his pipe into a jacket pocket, "but I can still take on the likes of you."

The miner looked bewildered. "I ... you can't . . ."

"Come on," Durban said, very seriously. He raised his fragile-looking fists.

One of the other miners put a hand on the first one's shoulder. "Forget it, Bert. He's crazy."

Bert wavered, uncertain. Durban was ramrod straight, looking like a slim rod of knobby bamboo next to a snorting red-eyed bull. Kinsman watched, unable to move. That guy'll kill Durban with one punch. Then what can we do? What can I do?

The miner finally stepped back, muttering and shaking his head. They all turned and began walking slowly back down the tunnel corridor, toward the pub.

Durban let his hands drop to his sides.

Colt puffed out a breath of relief. "Thanks, man."