sort of fancy I saw him once," said O'Brien, in answer to Holy
Dick's remark.

He spoke loudly, and his eyes again took in the silent Charlie in
their roving glance. At that instant the poker game broke up, and the
men gathered at the bar.

"What's he like?" demanded Nick derisively.

"Guess he's a hell of a man," laughed Pete sarcastically.

O'Brien eyed his interlocutors coldly. He had no liking for men with
color in them. They always roused the worst side of his none too easy
nature.

"Wal," he said frigidly, "I ain't sure. But, if I'm right, he ain't
such a hell of a feller. He ain't a giant. Kind o' small. All his
smartness wrapped in a little bundle. Sort o' refined-looking. Make a
dandy fine angel--to look at. Bit of a swell sharp. Got education bad.
But he ain't got swells around him. Not by a sight. His gang are the
lowest down bums I ever heard tell of. Say, they're that low I'd hate
to drink out of the same glass as any one of them." He picked up
Pete's glass and dipped it in water, and began to wipe it. "It 'ud
need to be mighty well cleaned first--like I'm doing this one."

His manner and action were a studied insult, which neither Pete nor
Nick attempted to take up. But Holy Dick's grin drew threatening
glances. Somehow, however, even in his direction neither made any
more aggressive movement. Toughs as they were, these two men fully
appreciated the company they were in. Holy Dick was one of the most
desperate men in Rocky Springs, and, as for O'Brien, well, no one had
ever been known to get "gay" with Dirty O'Brien and come off best.

Pete strove to grin the insult aside.

"Wal," he said, with a yawn, "I guess Fyles has 'some' feller to
handle, if your yarn's right, Dirty. Blankets fer mine and--right now.
Comin', Nick? An' you boys? Nick an' me are hayin' bright an' early
to-morrer mornin'," he added with a laugh, as he moved toward the
door.

The others slouched after him and with them went the cold voice of
O'Brien.

"You an' Nick hayin' is good--mighty good," he said, with a sneer.
"Nigh as good as Satin poppin' corn at a Sunday School tea."

"Or Dirty O'Brien handin' out scripture readin's in the same layout,"
retorted Pete, as he followed his companions out of the door.

Holy Dick ordered a "night-cap."

"Them two fellers make me hot as hell," cried O'Brien fiercely, as he
dashed the whisky into Holy's glass from a bottle under the counter.

"Ther', Holy, drink up, and git. I'm qu