ous portion of free lunch into
his hat and tossed it over the crowning woodwork of the ten-foot
refrigerator, with the level motion of a mason tossing bricks to his
mate. Caney's revolver followed, then Weir's and his own. He darted
behind the bar and confiscated a half-filled bottle of wine, the
appetizing name of which had won his approving notice earlier in the
evening. He stepped on a chair beside the refrigerator, leaped up,
caught the oaken edge of it, swung up with a supple twist of his
strong young body, and dropped to the top of the refrigerator, safe
hidden by the two-foot parapet of ornamental woodwork.

A little later two men sprang together through the front door; a
sloe-eyed Mexican and the dwarfish friend of the Australian giant.
They leaped aside to left and right, guns ready; they looked into the
gambling hall; they flanked the bar, one at each end, and searched
behind it.

Then the little man went to the door and called out scornfully: "Come
in, you damn cowards! He's gone!"

Shadowy forms grew out of the starlight, with whistlings, answered
from afar; more shadows came.

"Is Caney dead?" inquired a voice.

"Hell, I don't know and I don't care!" answered the little man
truculently. "I had no time to look at Caney, not knowing when that
devil would hop me. See for yourself."

The crowd struggled in--but not all of them. Weir came in groaning,
his face distorted with pain as he fondled his crippled arm. The
Merman examined Caney. "Dead, nothing," he reported. "Knocked out.
He won't breathe easy again for a week. Bring some whisky and a
pail of water. Isn't this fine? I don't think! Billiard table
ruined--plate-glass mirror shot to pieces--half a dozen men crippled,
and that damned little hell hound got off scot-free!"

"You mention your men last, I notice," sneered the little man. "Art
Price has got three of his back ribs caved in, and Lanning needs a
full set of teeth--to say nothing of them run over by the stampede.
Jiminy, but you're a fine bunch!"

They poured water on Caney's head, and they poured whisky down Caney's
throat; he gasped, spluttered, opened his eyes, and sat up, assisted
by Hales and the Merman.

"Here--four of you chaps carry Caney to the doc," ordered the Merman.
"Take that door--break off the other hinge. Tell doc a windlass got
away from him and the handle struck him in the breast. Tell him that
he stopped the ore bucket from smashing the men at the bottom--sob
stuff.