now."

"Ennybody ken see a chain an' locket in my hand," said Buffle, "but that
don't make it yourn."

"The locket contains the portrait of a lady, and the inscription
'Frances to Allan'--look quick, or I'll shoot!" said the little man,
savagely.

Buffle opened it, and saw Mrs. Berryn's portrait.

"Mister, yer right," said he; "here's yer property, an' I'll apologize,
er drink, er fight--er apologize, _an_' drink, _an'_ fight, whichever is
yer style. Fust, however, ef ye'll drop that pistol, I'll drink myself,
considerin'--never mind. Denominate yer pizen, gentlemen," said he, as
the audience crowded to the bar.

"Buffle," whispered the barkeeper, who knew the great man by sight,
"he's a littler man than you."

"I know it, boss," replied Buffle, most brazenly. "He sez he don't
drink."

"Never saw him _here_ before--there, he's goin' out now," said the
barkeeper.

Buffle turned and dashed through the crowd; all who held glasses quickly
laid them down and followed.

"Stand back, the hull crowd uv yer," said Buffle; "this ain't no