he extent of Lane's embarrassment. At this moment
the stranger lost his consternation wholly in wrath, and made a
threatening movement toward Pepper. Lane stepped between them just in
time to save Pepper a blow.

"I know what he's done. I apologize for him," said Lane, to the
stranger. "He's made a good many people victims of the same indignity.
It's a weakness--a disease. He can't help himself. Pray overlook it."

The stranger appeared impressed with Lane's presence, probably with
his uniform, and slowly shook himself and fell back, to glower at
Pepper, and curse under his breath, still uncertain of himself.

Lane grasped Colonel Pepper and led him out of the lobby.

"Pepper, you're going to get in an awful mess with that stunt of
yours," he declared, severely. "If you can't help it you ought at
least pick on your friends, or the town people--not strangers."

"Have--a--drink," sputtered Pepper, with his hand at his hip.

"No, thanks."

"Have--a--cigar."

Lane laughed. He had been informed that Colonel Pepper's failing
always took this form of remorse, and certainly he would have tried it
upon his latest victim had not Lane interfered.

"Colonel, you're hopeless," said Lane, as they walked out. "I hope
somebody will always be around to protect you. I'd carry a body
guard.... Say, have you seen Blair Maynard or Holt Dalrymple
to-night?"

"Not Blair, but Holt was here early with the boys," replied Pepper.
"They've gone to the club rooms to have a little game. I'm going to
sit in. Lately I had to put up a holler. If the boys quit cards how'm
I to make a living?"

"Had Holt been drinking?"

"Not to-night. But he's been hitting the bottle pretty hard of late."

Suddenly Lane buttonholed the little man and peered down earnestly at
him. "Pepper, I've been trying to straighten Holt up. He's going to
the bad. But he's a good kid. It's only the company.... The fact
is--this's strictly confidential, mind you--Holt's sister begged me to
try to stop his drinking and gambling. I think I can do it, too, with
a little help. Now, Pepper, I'm asking you to help me."

"Ahuh! Well, let's go in the writing room, where we can talk," said
the other, and he took hold of Lane's arm. When they were seated in a
secluded corner he lighted a cigar, and faced Lane with shrewd, kindly
eyes. "Son, I like you and Blair as well as I hate these slackers
Swann and Mackay, and their crowd. I could tell you a heap, and maybe
help you, thou