"Blaisdell, if you don't see that I'm treated right in this mess,
I'll teach you something, too," flared Bad Pete.

"Threatening the president of the mess is a breach of courtesy
on the part of any guest who attempts it," spoke Blaisdell again.
"Gentlemen, what is your pleasure?"

"I move," suggested Slim Morris quietly, "that Pete be considered
no longer a member or guest of this mess."

"Second the motion," cried Rutter, Rice and Grant together.

"The motion appears to have been carried, without the necessity
for putting it," declared Mr. Blaisdell. "Pete, you have heard
the pleasure of the mess."

"Huh!" scowled Bad Pete, picking up his soup plate and draining it.

Jake Wren, at this moment, entered with a big platter of roast
beef, Bob, the helper, following with dishes of vegetables. Then
Bob came in with plates, which he placed before Blaisdell. The
latter counted the plates, finding eight.

"We shan't need this plate, Bob," declared Blaisdell evenly, handing
it back. Then he began to carve.

"Put that plate back with the rest, Bob, you pop-eyed coyote,"
ordered Bad Pete.

Bob, looking uneasy, started to do so, but Blaisdell waved him