lkative cowboy laughed uproariously.

They evidently agreed with him that the boy was away off in his remarks.

Cheyenne Charlie could keep still no longer.

"Jest show ther galoots that yer ain't foolin', Wild," he said. "Shake
'em up it little."

"Lat light, Misler Wild!" called out the Chinaman, from the door. "Makee
allee samee be polite, so be."

"Shet up, you heathen!" roared the nearest cowboy, and with that he
caught the Celestial by the pig-tail and pulled him out.

A kick followed this and the Son of the Flowery Kingdom let out a yell
of pain.

Biff!

Young Wild West darted forward and struck the cowboy a blow on the
breast that sent him reeling.

"If you insist on it I'll give it to you good and straight," he said,
calmly. "How do you like that?"

Biff!

This time he landed one on the man's ribs, and down he went in a heap.

The other two started to interfere, but out went the boy's left and one
of them landed on all fours in a jiffy.

Spat!

Our hero's right caught the other on the chin and he went, too.

As was to be expected, all three of the cowboys made moves to pull their
guns.

But Young Wild West got ahead of them.

"Let go of those playthings--quick!" he shouted. "I will show you
galoots that you have got to be more civil with us. Get up and say you
are sorry for interfering with us."

There was something about the manner of the boy that told them that they
really had made a mistake. The revolver was held by a hand that was
steady as a rock, and there was no doubt in their minds but that lead
would fly from it if they disobeyed.

They let go their revolvers and scrambled to their feet.

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Cheyenne Charlie. "A fine lot of galoots you are!
Young Wild West is only a boy, all right, but I reckon he kin lick a
stagecoach load of sich fellers as you are! Make 'em do ther tenderfoot
dance, Wild. Go on--jest fur fun!"

"All right, Charlie," was the reply, and the young deadshot fired a shot
that hit the ground near the feet of the spokesman of the trio.

"Hold on!" the cowboy shouted. "It's all right, Young Wild West. I know
who yer are now. I'll 'pologize. Don't shoot no more!"

Crack!

Again the boy fired, and then all three, knowing what was wanted of
them, began to dance for all they were worth.

Crack--crack!

Cheyenne Charlie now took a hand in the game, and, while the girls and
Jim Dart laughed merrily, the three cowboys did the "tenderfoot dance"