misdemeanours, but had returned
and straightened out his house and affairs once again; and even when
she went off with Lick Baldwin, a cattle-dealer, she was welcomed back
without reproaches by Barbazon, chiefly because he had no morals, and
her abilities were of more value to him than her virtue. On the whole,
Gros Barbazon was a bad lot.

At Marchand's words Barbazon shrugged his shoulders. "The more spent
to-night, the less to spend to-morrow," he growled.

"But there's going to be spending for a long time," Marchand answered.
"There's going to be a riot to-morrow, and there's going to be a strike
the next day, and after that there's going to be something else."

"What else?" Barbazon asked, his beady eyes fastened on Marchand's face.

"Something worth while-better than all the rest." Barbazon's low
forehead seemed to disappear almost, as he drew the grizzled shock of
hair down, by wrinkling his forehead with a heavy frown.

"It's no damn good, m'sieu'," he growled. "Am I a fool? They'll spend
money to-night, and tomorrow, and the next day, and when the row is on;
and the more they spend then, the less they'll have to spend by-and-by.
It's no good. The steady trade for me--all the time. That is my idee.
And the something else--what? You think there's something else that'll
be good for me? Nom de Dieu, there's nothing you're doing, or mean to
do, but'll hurt me and everybody."

"That's your view, is it, Barbazon?" exclaimed Marchand loudly, for the
crowd was now almost at the door. "You're a nice Frenchman and patriot.
That crowd'll be glad to hear you think they're fools. Suppose they took
it into their heads to wreck the place?"

Barbazon's muddy face got paler, but his eyes sharpened, and he leaned
over the bar-counter, and said with a snarl: "Go to hell, and say what
you like; and then I'll have something to say about something else,
m'sieu'."

Marchand was about to reply angrily, but he instantly changed his mind,
and before Barbazon could stop him, he sprang over the counter and
disappeared into the office behind the bar.

"I won't steal anything, Barbazon," he said over his shoulder as he
closed the door behind him.

"I'll see to that," Barbazon muttered stolidly, but with malicious eyes.

The front door was flung open now, and the crowd poured into the room,
boisterous, reckless, though some were only sullen, watchful and angry.
These last were mostly men above middle age, and of a fanatical and
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