tossed them into the road. "They are
spoil! Bah. Pig!"

Rand was back at the threshold, his face blood red, his hands dripping
the mud from the slushy road. But young Frank Marquette had stepped
out to meet him and had closed the door.

For a little all eyes in the room rested intent upon Ramon Garcia. The
first estimate, founded upon dandified clothes and manner, had changed
swiftly. He was a man even though he wore gloves and was overfond of
posing. Even though everything he did was overdone, whether it be the
bowing over an old Frenchman's hand, the wide sweep of his hat in a
flourish of slow gracefulness, the tender love making to a woman for
whom he did not care the snap of his little white fingers, upon
occasion his soft eyes knew how to grow keen and hard and he carried
himself with the assurance of fearlessness. It was as though he had
worn a lace cloak over a capable, muscled body; as though the cloak had
been blown aside by a sudden gust and men had seen the true man
underneath.

In Kootanie George's eyes where there had come to be a widening of slow
astonishment during the brief struggle now was a dawning admiration.
He put out his great hand as he shambled forward.

"I called you Greaser, too," he said heavily. "I take it back, Garcia.
You're a white man. Shake."

Garcia took his hand readily, laughing.

"And you, senor, whom I thought a clown are a gentleman," he answered,
a trifle of impudence in the gaze which swept the big man from head to
heel. Kootanie grinned a bit, passed over the innuendo in silence and
went back to his chair. Garcia, giving an added twist of fierceness to
his mustaches, returned to his dice game.

For a little Dave Drennen had been forgotten. Now he was remembered.
His appearance here to-night provoked interest for two reasons. For
one thing he had packed off on a lonely prospecting trip two weeks
before, impatient at the delayed thaw, unwilling to wait until the
trails were open enough for a man to travel off the beaten route. For
another thing one never sought Dave Drennen where other men drew
together as they had congregated now. If under that hard exterior he
felt any of the emotions which other men feel, if he had his joys and
his griefs, he chose to experience them alone. Consequently the mere
fact of his appearance here now brought a flicker of curious interest
with it. Unless he had a quarrel with some man in the Frenchman's
house, what had broug