a toast or take off my hat now to
any man that lives."

During the comments of The Rebel, a stranger, who evidently overheard
them, rose from one of the tables in the place and sauntered over to
the end of the bar, an attentive listener to the succeeding
conversation. He was a younger man than Priest,--with a head of heavy
black hair reaching his shoulders, while his dress was largely of
buckskin, profusely ornamented with beadwork and fringes. He was
armed, as was every one else, and from his languid demeanor as well as
from his smart appearance, one would classify him at a passing glance
as a frontier gambler. As we turned away from the bar to an unoccupied
table, Priest waited for his change, when the stranger accosted him
with an inquiry as to where he was from. In the conversation that
ensued, the stranger, who had noticed the good-humored manner in which
The Rebel had taken the chiding of our foreman, pretending to take him
to task for some of his remarks. But in this he made a mistake. What
his friends might safely say to Priest would be treated as an insult
from a stranger. Seeing that he would not stand his chiding, the other
attempted to mollify him by proposing they have a drink together and
part friendly, to which The Rebel assented. I was pleased with the
favorable turn of affairs, for my bunkie had used some rather severe
language in resenting the remarks of the stranger, which now had the
promise of being dropped amicably.

I knew the temper of Priest, and so did Flood and Honeyman, and we
were all anxious to get him away from the stranger. So I asked our
foreman as soon as they had drunk together, to go over and tell Priest
we were waiting for him to make up a game of cards. The two were
standing at the bar in a most friendly attitude, but as they raised
their glasses to drink, the stranger, holding his at arm's length,
said: "Here's a toast for you: To General Grant, the ablest"--

But the toast was never finished, for Priest dashed the contents of
his glass in the stranger's face, and calmly replacing the glass on
the bar, backed across the room towards us. When half-across, a sudden
movement on the part of the stranger caused him to halt. But it seemed
the picturesque gentleman beside the bar was only searching his
pockets for a handkerchief.

"Don't get your hand on that gun you wear," said The Rebel, whose
blood was up, "unless you intend to use it. But you can't shoot a
minute too quick to sui