that addressed those in his
walk of life as "my man." Lord, how he hated that appellation!

The intentness of his gaze upon her back had the effect so often noted
by the observant, and suddenly aroused from the lethargy of her
misery the girl swung around to meet the man's eyes squarely upon her.
Instantly she recognized him as the brute who had killed Billy Mallory.
If there had been hate in the mucker's eyes as he looked at the girl, it
was as nothing by comparison with the loathing and disgust which sprang
to hers as they rested upon his sullen face.

So deep was her feeling of contempt for this man, that the sudden
appearance of him before her startled a single exclamation from her.

"Coward!" came the one word, involuntarily, from her lips.

The man's scowl deepened menacingly. He took a threatening step toward
her.

"Wot's dat?" he growled. "Don't get gay wit me, or I'll black dem lamps
fer yeh," and he raised a heavy fist as though to strike her.

The mucker had looked to see the girl cower before his threatened
blow--that would have been ample atonement for her insult, and would
have appealed greatly to his Kelly-gang sense of humor. Many a time
had he threatened women thus, for the keen enjoyment of hearing their
screams of fright and seeing them turn and flee in terror. When they had
held their ground and opposed him, as some upon the West Side had felt
sufficiently muscular to do, the mucker had not hesitated to "hand them
one." Thus only might a man uphold his reputation for bravery in the
vicinage of Grand Avenue.

He had looked to see this girl of the effete and effeminate upper class
swoon with terror before him; but to his intense astonishment she but
stood erect and brave before him, her head high held, her eyes cold and
level and unafraid. And then she spoke again.

"Coward!" she said.

Billy almost struck her; but something held his hand. What, he could not
understand. Could it be that he feared this slender girl? And at this
juncture, when the threat of his attitude was the most apparent,
Second Officer Theriere came upon the scene. At a glance he took in the
situation, and with a bound had sprung between Billy Byrne and Barbara
Harding.

CHAPTER VI. THE MUCKER AT BAY

"WHAT has this man said to you, Miss Harding?" cried Theriere. "Has he
offered you harm?"

"I do not think that he would have dared strike me," replied the girl,
"though he threatened to do so. He is the coward who m