He was about to reply, but, at the instant, a reveller pushed him with
a foot behind the knees so that they were sprung forward. The crowd
laughed--all save Billy Goat, who knew his man.

Like lightning, and with cold fury in his eyes, Foyle caught the tall
cattleman by the forearm, and, with a swift, dexterous twist, had the
fellow in his power.

"Down--down, to your knees, you skunk," he said in a low, fierce voice.

The knees of the big man bent,--Foyle had not taken lessons of Ogami,
the Jap, for nothing--they bent, and the cattleman squealed, so intense
was the pain. It was break or bend; and he bent--to the ground and lay
there. Foyle stood over him for a moment, a hard light in his eyes, and
then, as if bethinking himself, he looked at the other roisterers, and
said:

"There's a limit, and he reached it. Your mouths are your own, and you
can blow off to suit your fancy, but if any one thinks I'm a tame coyote
to be poked with a stick--!" He broke off, stooped over, and helped
the man before him to his feet. The arm had been strained, and the big
fellow nursed it.

"Hell, but you're a twister!" the cattleman said with a grimace of pain.

Billy Goat was a gentleman, after his kind, and he liked Sergeant Foyle
with a great liking. He turned to the crowd and spoke.

"Say, boys, this mine's worked out. Let's leave the Happy Land to Foyle.
Boys, what is he--what--is he? What--is--Sergeant Foyle--boys?"

The roar of the song they all knew came in reply, as Billy Goat waved
his arms about like the wild leader of a wild orchestra:

"Sergeant Foyle, oh, he's a knocker from the West,
He's a chase-me-Charley, come-and-kiss-me tiger from the zoo;
He's a dandy on the pinch, and he's got a double cinch
On the gent that's going careless, and he'll soon cinch you:
And he'll soon--and he'll soon--cinch you!"

Foyle watched them go, dancing, stumbling, calling back at him, as they
moved towards the Prairie Home Hotel:

"And he'll soon-and he'll soon-cinch you!"

His under lip came out, his eyes half-closed, as he watched them. "I've
done my last cinch. I've done my last cinch," he murmured.

Then, suddenly, the look in his face changed, the eyes swam as they
had done a minute before at the sight of the girl in the room behind.
Whatever his trouble was, that face had obscured it in a flash, and
the pools of feeling far down in the depths of a lonely nature had been
stirred. Recognition,