a storm of maudlin invective.

"Sign yerself 'Winton' now, do yet ye lowdown, turkey-trodden--"

"One minute," said Winton curtly, taking the telegram from the boy and
signing for it.

"I'll give ye more'n ye can carry away in less'n half that time--see?"
was the minatory retort; and the threat was made good by an awkward
buffet which would have knocked the engineer out of his chair if he
had remained in it.

Now Winton's eyes were gray and steadfast, but his hair was of that
shade of brown which takes the tint of dull copper in certain lights,
and he had a temper which went with the red in his hair rather than
with the gray in his eyes. Wherefore his attempt to placate his
assailant was something less than diplomatic.

"You drunken scoundrel!" he snapped. "If you don't go about your
business and let me alone, I'll turn you over to the police with a
broken bone or two!"

The bully's answer was a blow delivered straight from the shoulder--too
straight to harmonize with the fiction of drunkenness. Winton saw the
sober purpose in it and went battle-mad, as a hasty man will. Being a
skilful boxer,--which his antagonist was not,--he did what he had to
do neatly and with commendable despatch. Down, up; down, up; down a
third time, and then the bystanders interfered.

"Hold on!"

"That'll do!"

"Don't you see he's drunk?"

"Enough's as good as a feast--let him go."

Winton's blood was up, but he desisted, breathing threatenings.
Whereat Biggin shouldered his way into the circle.

"Pay your bill and let's hike out o' this, _pronto_!" he said in a low
tone. "You ain't got no time to fool with a Carbonate justice shop."

But Winton was not to be brought to his senses so easily.

"Run away from that swine? Not if I know it. Let him take it into
court if he wants to. I'll be there, too."

The beaten one was up now and apparently looking for an officer.

"I'm takin' ye all to witness," he rasped. "I was on'y askin' him to
cash up what he lost to me las' night, and he jumps me. But I'll stick
him if there's any law in this camp."

Now all this time Winton had been holding the unopened telegram
crumpled in his fist, but when Biggin pushed him out of the circle and
thrust him up to the clerk's desk, he bethought him to read the
message. It was Virginia's warning, signed by Adams, and a single
glance at the closing sentence was enough to cool him suddenly.

"Pay the bill, Biggin, and join me in the billiard-room,