of
the doorway and rolled down the street toward the entrance to Johnny
Feiglebaum's. He had seemed to divine instantly this particular
saloon's location.

Martin accompanied the other willingly; he wished to see more of this
strange giant. The streetcar he had been awaiting passed by
unregarded. Martin had the feeling, also, that he would have to accept
the big man's invitation, whether or no--that huge hand gripped his
shoulder like a vise. Feiglebaum's was empty of its usual custom; only
old Johnny, himself, from his station behind the bar, witnessed with
scandalized eyes their rather tempestuous entrance.

"Set 'em up for two, matey!" roared Martin's companion, or rather,
abductor, as soon as they crossed the threshold.

The little German's answer was a wail of dismay.

"Ach, Himmel, you here again!" he cried at the big man. "Mein Gott! I
thought at last you haf gone! Marty, mein poy, why haf you brought him
back?"

Martin couldn't answer this obviously unfair question. He was
helpless. The vise squeezed his shoulder cruelly, and only pride
prevented him exclaiming in pain. Squirming increased the pressure.
His captor half led, half dragged him up to the bar, and there released
him. Martin grunted with relief and nursed his misused flesh.

"I'll 'ave a pot o' beer, says I!" rumbled the big fellow, slapping his
hand upon the wood with a force that made the glasses jingle in their
racks. "And my friend 'ere--why, 'e'll 'ave a pot o' beer, too, says
'e," he concluded, interpreting Martin's nod.

Johnny filled the order with alacrity. He evidently stood in awe of
this strange man. But he spluttered indignantly as he set the drinks
upon the bar.

"Why haf you brought dot man back here?" he whispered to Martin
reproachfully. "Ach, he is der deffil's own! All der evening he haf
been in und oudt, und he drink und drink, und talk und talk and cry
apout his trouble. He haf lost his Beely, his Leedle Beely, und he
talk like I haf stolen him. _Schweinhunde_! Mein Gott, Marty, I would
nod steal him--I would nod haf der _verdumpf_ dog in der blace!"

"A dog! A dog! 'Oo says 'e's a dog?" The "_schweinhunde_" had sharp
ears. He pounded the bar with his fist, and his voice boomed like
distant artillery. "'E ain't no dog! Just let me meet the bloke what
calls Little Billy a dog!" He ignored old Johnny, and glared at Martin
belligerently. "'E's my mate, is Little Billy, and a proper lad 'e is,
f