diously observed. His repertory was wide and refined. When he sang
he was always grammatical.

"Ye kin stop, kid," said the old gentleman, not unkindly, and he shoved
his pistol into his belt.

The boy ceased. He had been thinking matters over. Being lithe and
strong, he was not tired nor much out of breath, but he was trembling
with the plan and the prospect he had laid out for himself. "Set 'em
up," he said to Ephraim. "Set 'em up again all round."

His voice caused Specimen Jones to turn and look once more, while the
old gentleman, still benevolent, said, "Yer langwidge means pleasanter
than it sounds, kid." He glanced at the boy's holster, and knew he need
not keep a very sharp watch as to that. Its owner had bungled over it
once already. All the old gentleman did was to place himself next the
boy on the off side from the holster; any move the tenderfoot's hand
might make for it would be green and unskilful, and easily anticipated.
The company lined up along the bar, and the bottle slid from glass to
glass. The boy and his tormentor stood together in the middle of the
line, and the tormentor, always with half a thought for the holster,
handled his drink on the wet counter, waiting till all should be filled
and ready to swallow simultaneously, as befits good manners.

"Well, my regards," he said, seeing the boy raise his glass; and as the
old gentleman's arm lifted in unison, exposing his waist, the boy
reached down a lightning hand, caught the old gentleman's own pistol,
and jammed it in his face.

"Now you'll dance," said he.

"Whoop!" exclaimed Specimen Jones, delighted. "_Blamed_ if he ain't
neat!" And Jones's handsome face lighted keenly.

"Hold on!" the boy sang out, for the amazed old gentleman was
mechanically drinking his whiskey out of sheer fright. The rest had
forgotten their drinks. "Not one swallow," the boy continued. "No,
you'll not put it down either. You'll keep hold of it, and you'll dance
all round this place. Around and around. And don't you spill any. And
I'll be thinking what you'll do after that."

Specimen Jones eyed the boy with growing esteem. "Why, he ain't bigger
than a pint of cider," said he.

"Prance away!" commanded the tenderfoot, and fired a shot between the
old gentleman's not widely straddled legs.

"You hev the floor, Mr. Adams," Jones observed, respectfully, at the old
gentleman's agile leap. "I'll let no man here interrupt you." So the
capering began, and the compan