and don't give a damn," said a lumberjack near by.

"Well, you will before you're through. You're goin' t' drink with me,
an' you'll drink with both hands on the glass. Come up an' take your
med'cine." As he spoke his hand rested on his hip-pocket.

The head bar-tender poked him in the ribs. "No gun play here," he
said. "You're not in Montana now."

"I guess I know where I am," he retorted. "An' what d'ye think I pack
a gun for? T' tell the time by? This (not printable) is goin' t'
drink with me, or I'll fix him so's you c'n see through him both
ways." With the word he whipped out a revolver and fired into the
floor at the lumber-jack's feet, while a considerable part of the
crowd scurried for the door.

"Put up your gun, you (equally unprintable)," shouted the
lumber-jack, throwing his hat on the floor, "and I'll crack your
slats quicker'n you can count 'em."

"It's all right, Pete," said the bar-tender, addressing the
lumber-jack. "You can lick him hands down, but that won't pay the
bills if you get in the road of a bullet. Now you," turning to the
other, "stow that artillery, an' stow it quick, or I'll call the
Mounted Police."

For answer the stranger took a handful of tobacco from his mouth, and
with a swing of his arm plastered it over the mirror behind the bar.
"That for the Mounted Police," he said. "Now there's goin' t' be some
drinkin' or some shootin', an' maybe a little o' both." He ploughed
the floor with another bullet, and the crowd again visibly thinned
away. Riles had backed into a corner; the man in the pepper-and-salt
suit had disappeared.

Having no weapon, the lumber-jack kept his distance, but if epithets
could kill his bullying provoker would have been carried out a
corpse. The man with the revolver, on the other hand, seemed taking
his time, playing with his victim, like a wild beast sure of his
prey.

Suddenly there was another stir about the door, and a young fellow in
scarlet tunic and yellow-striped riding-pants walked briskly in. His
lithe figure, his clean boyish face, his military alertness, were in
striking contrast to the ambling, carelessly-dressed crowd. He had
taken in the situation at a glance, and walked, neither faster nor
slower, direct to the desperado. The latter found himself confronted
by an unexpected dilemma. If he took his gun off the lumber-jack to
cover the policeman he knew perfectly well that the promised
slat-cracking process would begin immediately. If the