us with a cordiality I had not suspected in him.
Randall nodded in his usual diffident fashion, and slid into the oak
shadow, where he squatted on his heels.

"About this Scar-face Charley," he said abruptly, "I hear he's issued
his defi, and you've taken him up. Do you know anything about this sort
of thing?"

"Not a bit," admitted Johnny frankly. "Is it a duel; and are you
gentleman here to act as my seconds?"

"It is not," stated the downright doctor. "It's a barroom murder and you
cannot get around it; and I, for one, don't try. But now you're in for
it, and you've got to go through with it."

"I intend to," said Johnny.

"It's not precisely that," objected Danny Randall, "for, d'ye see, he's
sent you warning."

"It's about all the warning you'll get!" snorted the doctor.

"There's a sort of rule about it," persisted Randall. "And that's what
I'm here to tell you. He'll try to come up on you suddenly, probably
from behind; and he'll say 'draw and defend yourself,' and shoot you as
soon after that as he can. You want to see him first, that's all."

"Thanks," said Johnny.

"And," exploded the doctor, "if you don't kill that fellow, by the
Eternal, when you get a chance----"

"You'll give him a pill, Doctor," interrupted Randall, with a little
chuckle. "But look here," he said to Johnny, "after all, this sort of a
mess isn't required of you. You say the word and I'll take on this
Scar-face Charley and run him out of town. He's a good deal of a pest."

"Thank you," said Johnny stiffly; "I intend to paddle my own canoe."

Randall nodded.

"I don't know as we can help you any more," said he. "I just thought you
ought to be on to the way it's done."

"I'm obliged to you," said Johnny warmly. "The only doubt in my mind was
when I was privileged to open."

"I'd pot him through the window with a shotgun first chance I got,"
stated the doctor; "that sort of a ruffian is just like a mad dog."

"Of course you would, Doctor," said Randall with just the faintest
suspicion of sarcasm in his voice. "Well, I guess we'll be toddling."

But I wanted some information, and I meant to have it.

"Who is this Scar-face Charley," I asked.

"Got me," replied Randall; "you fellows seemed to recognize him. Only
he's one of the gang, undoubtedly."

"The gang?"

"Oh, the general run of hangers-on. Nobody knows how they live, but
every one suspects. Some of them work, but not many. There are a heap of
disappearances tha