who darted in, calling: "One good cigar!"

Instantly the Girl reached behind her for the box containing the
choicest cigars, and handing one to Nick, she said:

"Here's your poison--three bits. Why look at 'em," she went on in
the next breath to Rance; "there's Handsome with two wives I know of
somewhere East. And--" She broke off short and ended with: "Nick, who's
that cigar for?"

"Tommy," he told her.

"Here, give that back!" she cried quickly putting out her hand for it.
"Tommy don't know a good cigar when he's smokin' it." And so saying she
put the choice cigar back in its place among its fellows and handed him
one from another box with the remark: "Same price, Nick."

Nick chuckled and went out.

"An' look at Trin with a widow in Sacramento. An' you--" The Girl broke
off short and laughed in his face. "Oh, not one o' you travellin' under
your own name!"

"One whisky!" ordered Nick, coming into the room with a rush. Without
a word the Girl took down a bottle and poured it out for him while he
stood quietly looking on, grinning from ear to ear. For Rance's weakness
was known to him as it was to every other man in Manzaneta County, and
he believed that the Sheriff had taken advantage of his absence to press
his hopeless suit.

"Here you be!" sang out the Girl, and passed the glass over to him.

"He wants it with water," returned Nick, with a snicker.

With a contemptuous gesture the Girl put the bottle back on the shelf.

"No--no you don't; no fancy drinks here!" she objected.

"But he says he won't take it without water," protested Nick, though
there was a twinkle in his eye. "He's a fellow that's jest rode in from
The Crossin', so he says."

The Girl folded her arms and declared in a tone of finality:

"He'll take it straight or git."

"But he won't git," contended Nick chuckling. There was an ominous
silence. Such behaviour was without a parallel in the annals of Cloudy.
For much less than this, as the little barkeeper very well knew, many a
man had been disciplined by the Girl. So, with his eyes fixed upon her
face, he was already revelling in the situation by way of anticipation,
and rejoicing in the coming requital for his own rebuff when the
stranger had declined to leave as ordered. It was merely a question of
his waiting for the words which would, as he put it, "take the fellow
down a peg." They were soon forthcoming.

"You jest send 'im to me," commanded the Girl. "I'll curl his hair for