ves to the miners at River Bend, for this
was the name selected by Captain Fletcher for the location. The new
arrivals were a rougher and more disorderly class than Fletcher and his
companions. Already there was a saloon, devoted to the double purpose of
gambling and drinking; and the proprietor, Missouri Jack (no one knew
his last name), was doing a thriving business. Indeed his income
considerably exceeded that of any one in the settlement.

Neither Tom nor any of his party contributed much to Missouri Jack's
profits. In consequence, they had to bear the ill-will and sometimes
open abuse of Jack and his friends.

"Come in and take a drink, stranger," called out Jack, the day after the
opening of the saloon, to Captain Fletcher.

"No, thank you."

"It shan't cost you a cent."

"It would cost me my health," returned Fletcher.

"Do you mean to say I sell bad whiskey?" demanded Jack, angrily,
emphasizing the inquiry by an oath.

"I don't know anything about it."

"Then what _do_ you mean?"

"I mean that all whiskey is bad for the health," replied Fletcher.

"Oh, you're a temperance sneak!" exclaimed Missouri Jack,
contemptuously.

"I am a temperance man; you may leave out the other word," calmly
answered Fletcher.

"You're not a man!" exploded Jack. "A man that's afraid of whiskey is
a--a--isn't half a man. He isn't fit to be a woman."

"Have it as you like," said Fletcher, unruffled. "I shall not drink to
please any man. I had a younger brother--a bright, promising young man
poor Ben was--who drank himself to death. He'd have been alive now but
for whiskey."

"Oh, dry up your pious talk! You make me sick!" exclaimed Missouri Jack
in deep disgust.

Next he accosted John Miles, who curtly declined and received in return
a volley of abuse. Now Miles was a powerful man, and not possessed of
Fletcher's self-control. He paused, and surveyed Jack with a menacing
look.

"Look here, stranger," he said, sharply, "just have a care how you use
that tongue of yours. This is a free country, and if I choose to decline
your whiskey, there's no law against it that I know of."

"You're a white-livered sneak!"

Missouri Jack did not proceed with his remarks, for John Miles, seizing
him by the shoulder, tripped him up, and strode away, leaving him
prostrate, and pouring out a volley of curses. Being a bully, and
cowardly as most bullies are, he did not pursue his broad-shouldered
enemy, but vowed vengeance whenever