m the
girl's, and stepping up to the table, drawing her with him, he bent a
glance upon the disgruntled gambler.

"Excuse me, Mister," he began in the slow easy cool speech of a cowboy,
"but did you mean me?"

His tone, his presence, drew the attention of all at the table,
especially the one he addressed, and Hardman. The former laid down his
cards. Shrewd eyes took Pan's measure, surely not missing the gun at
his hip.

"Suppose I did mean you?" demanded the gambler, curiously.

"Well, if you did I'd have to break up your game," replied Pan,
apologetically. "You see, Mister, it hurts my feelings to have anyone
make fun of my clothes."

"All right, cowboy, no offense meant," returned the other, at which
everyone except Hardman, let out a laugh. "But you'll break up our
game anyhow, if you don't trot off with Louise there."

His further remark, dryly sarcastic, mostly directed at Hardman did not
help the situation, so far as Pan was concerned. It was, however,
exactly what Pan wanted. Dick stared insolently and fixedly at Pan.
He appeared as much puzzled as annoyed. Manifestly he was trying to
place Pan, and did not succeed. Pan had hardly expected to be
recognized, though he stood there a moment, head uncovered, under the
light, giving his old enemy eye for eye. In fact his steady gaze
disconcerted Dick, who turned his glance on the amused girl. Then his
face darkened and he spat out his cigar to utter harshly: "Go on, you
cat! And don't purr round me any more!"

Insolently she laughed in his face. "You forget I can scratch." Then
she drew Pan away from the table, beckoning for Brown to come also.
Halting presently near the wide opening into the dance hall she said:

"I'm always starting fights. What might your name be, cowboy?"

"Well, it might be Tinkerdam, but it isn't," replied Pan nonchalantly.

"Aren't you funny?" she queried, half-inclined to be affronted. But
she thought better of it, and turned to Brown. "I know your face."

"Sure you do, Miss Louise," said Brown, easily. "I'm a miner. Was
here when you came to town, an' I often drop in to see the fun."

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Charley Brown, an' that's straight."

"Thanks, Charley. Now tell me who's this big good-looking pard of
yours? I just want to know. You can't fool me about men. He doffs
his hat to me. He talks nice and low, and smiles as no men smile at
me. Then he bluffs the toughest nut in this town....