vengeful
resentment.

They probably would have made an end of Morgan then and there, but for
the interference of Peden, proprietor of the place, who appeared on the
scene of the turmoil at that moment, calm and unruffled, expensive white
sombrero on the back of his head, fresh cigar in his mouth, black frock
coat striking him almost to the knees.

Peden pushed in among the cowboys as they made a rush for Morgan, who
stood his ground, back to the bar, regretting now the foolish impulse
that had led him into this pack of wolves. Peden stepped in front of
Morgan, authority in his very calmness, and restrained the inflamed
Texans.

He asked them to consider the ladies. The ladies were in a terrible
panic, he said, sweeping his hand toward the farther end of the room
where a dozen or so of the creatures whom he dignified with the name
were huddled under the restraint of the chief fiddler, who stood before
them with fiddle in one hand, bow in the other, like sword and buckler.

There was more curiosity than fright in the women, as the most
unsophisticated observer could have read in their kalsomined
countenances. Peden's only object in keeping them back from a closer
enjoyment of the battle was entirely commercial, humanity and delicacy
being no part of his business plan. A live lady was worth a great deal
more to his establishment than one with a stray bullet in her skin,
waiting burial at his expense in the busy undertaker's morgue.

The cowboys yielded immediately to Peden's appeal in behalf of the
ladies, although they very likely would have resented a more obscure
citizen's interference with their plans. They fronted the bar again on
Peden's invitation to pour another drink. Two of them lifted from the
floor the man whom Morgan had fought, and supported him in a weak-kneed
advance upon the bar. They cheered him in his half-blind and bleeding
wretchedness with promise of what that marvelous elixir, whisky, would
do for him once he began to feel the quickening of its potent flame.

Peden indicated by a lifting of the eyebrows, a slight movement of the
head toward the door, that Morgan was to improve this moment by making
a quiet and expeditious get-away. Morgan needed no urging, being quite
willing to allow matters to rest where they stood. He started for the
door, making a little detour to put a faro table, around which several
men were standing, between himself and the men to whom Seth Craddock had
delegated the