society.”

[55]

“See here, my friend,” spoke a blustering fellow, advancing toward him, “you made a little mistake. This ’ere ain’t a tramps’ lodgin’ house.”

“Ain’t it?” queried the stranger; “then what the Moses are you doin’ here?”

“You’ll swallow that, my hearty!”

“When?”

The stranger threw himself into an attitude of defence and glared defiance at his opponent.

“Wax him, Charley!”

“Let’s fire him out!”

“Hold on gentlemen; fair play!”

“I’ll give you one more chance,” said the blusterer. “Ask my pardon and then mizzle instantly, or I’ll have ye cut up in sections as sure as my name’s Rummey Joe.”

The half intoxicated man was no coward. Evidently he was ripe for a quarrel.

“I intend to stop here!” he cried, bringing his fist down upon the counter with a force that made it creak. “I’m goin’ to stay right here till the old Nick comes to fetch me. And I’m goin’ ter send your teeth down your big throat in three minutes.”

There was a chorus of exclamations, a drawing of weapons, and a forward rush. Then sudden silence.

The man who had lately ordered drinks for the crowd, was standing between the combatants, one hand upon the breast of the last comer, the other grasping a pistol levelled just under the nose of Rummey Joe.

[56]“Drop yer fist, boy! Put up that knife, Joe! Let’s understand each other.”

[56]

Then addressing the stranger, but keeping an eye upon Rummey Joe, he said:

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